


Never Tell Me The Odds

by AquaWolfGirl



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: AU, AU where Ben is not Force sensitive, Action, Adventure, F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M, One-Liners Aplenty, Romance, Slow AF Burn, Smuggler!Ben, Snark, Some Self Harm? Not Really?, Sorry Not Sorry, some blood, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:50:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 135,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaWolfGirl/pseuds/AquaWolfGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was just the supply runner and information gatherer, really. He didn't mean to get swept up in this Force mumbo-jumbo. Then again, his father hadn't meant to either, and look where that got him.<br/>An AU where Ben's not Force sensitive, and instead has followed in his father's footsteps to become a smuggler and gatherer for the Resistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jakku

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea if I'm going to continue this - I have plenty of ideas for the plot, however I have so much other writing to do that this was really just a beating out of an idea. However, if you'd like me to continue, let me know in the comments and I might just turn it into a multi-chapter.

He’s never entirely liked sand. It’s too hot, and too gritty, and altogether frustrating. He finds himself stumbling more than once as it gives beneath his feet; his boots are used to the grass of D’Qar and the metal floorplates of the Millennium Falcon, both far cries from the slippery, irritating sand of Jakku.

Chewie barks a laugh behind him as he nearly falls face first into the damn grains for what seems like the dozenth time, sliding slightly on the dunes. He rights himself after a moment of windmilling, checking to make sure that his blaster’s still attached to his hip before glaring at the Wookie. 

“Laugh it up,” he mutters, running his fingers through his hair to push it away from his sweaty forehead. Chewie just chuckles at him, barking another laugh.

Ben sighs, shaking his head as they continue on their way to the Niima outpost. With luck, they’ll find a decent power converter and be back towards the Ileenium system by the time the sun starts to set beyond the dunes. 

But, then again, luck has never really been on Ben Solo’s side. 

He huffs softly, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the Force will be with him for once and allow him to escape the planet relatively easily. Knowing his record, he doubts it, but there’s no harm in hoping, right?

He takes advantage of the sand’s slipperiness and nearly surfs down the next dune on his feet, Chewie trailing along behind him. He’s grateful he opted for a vest instead of taking his father’s advice for a new jacket; the sun’s harsh here, beating down on him and causing sweat to drip down his temples. He casts occasional glances back at Chewie, seeing how the Wookie's doing in the heat. His uncle seems fine, so far. 

He can see the outpost in the distance; a gathering of hazy, dark shapes a few hundred or so steps in front of them, warped and distorted by heat waves. He can vaguely see figures walking about it, speeders and ships collected in front - simultaneously a junkyard and a makeshift landing bay.  None of the vehicles look recent; it’s a junk planet, after all, and no one would come here if they didn’t absolutely have to. He eyes some of the ships as they get closer, seeing quite clearly which ones had been taken apart and left to the sand and which ones were still in use. The Falcon’s definitely an older ship, and judging by the piles of junk he walks by, they’ll have no problem finding an adaptable power converter. At least, he hopes so.

They’re a few dozen paces from the outpost when there’s a familiar beep to the left, and then a high-pitched, mechanical squeal. Ben frowns, bracing his hand against his brow, blocking the harsh sun in an attempt to see what exactly had made the sound. “What the-?” he asks, eyes widening as he sees the small cloud of dust and sand coming towards them. Chewie roars softly, tilting his head in confusion. “Yeah, me too,” Ben mutters, lowering his hand to squint at the round shape of BB-8.

Poe Dameron’s droid is rolling towards them, nearly stumbling over merchants wares in its haste to get to the pair. The smuggler’s son kneels down on the sand, frowning deeply at the sight of the droid as the unit approaches quickly. “BB, where’s Poe?” he demand as it rolls to a stop near his feet. He straightens, looking around the outpost for his mother’s favored pilot. 

There’s no sign of him, and that in itself is incredibly concerning. For as long as Ben’s known Poe to have the droid, the pilot’s never been far behind the little BB unit. He looks back down at the droid who’s beeping at him urgently, knocking into his knee for his attention. “Hang on, OW, stop that!” He pushes the droid away from where it’s zapped his knee for his attention, beeping near frantically in panic. “Slow down, buddy - what happened?” he demands, reaching out to fix the droid’s antenna as he’s filled in.

The droid beeps madly, terribly frightened and very much shaken. Ben’s not entirely fluent in binary, but he manages to catch something about the First Order, and a map, and Poe being gone - no, not gone. Dead. He hears that word above any others, and his heart drops at its attachment to his friend’s name. He can’t possibly have heard right, could he? “Hold it,” Ben orders gently, putting his hand out. The droid stops its beeping and booping and instead just whines softly. “Poe’s dead?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at BB-8. 

The droid gives a forlorn little whine, head bowing sadly. Ben stares.

Well, kriff. The news hits him like a blaster bolt, and he barely manages to keep on his feet as he braces one hand against the ground for balance. 

Poe. Poe Dameron. Poe Dameron’s dead. Breathing’s difficult on this dusty hell planet anyways, but it’s even moreso now as realization hits, his breaths coming out short and almost painful. Poe’s dead. “How?” he asks, running a hand through his hair in distress. “Who did it? Where is he?”

BB-8’s responding beep is just as sad as his little head bow, a vague sort of answer without a true explanation. So the droid doesn’t exactly know. Ben nods, biting his lip before looking back up at Chewie, his uncle’s shadow falling over the young man and the droid. The Wookie growls his assent at Ben’s questioning look, and the man looks back at the droid. “Okay, well, you’re coming back with us, okay? We’ll take you back to base, forget the run. Chewie, you take BB back to the Falcon and I’ll get us a power converter, all right? Tell Mom … tell Mom that there’s been a change in plans, and we’ll hopefully be in the system sometime by morning.” He looks towards BB-8. “Go with Chewie.” 

BB-8 beeps in protest, and Ben’s about to open his mouth to ask “Why not?” when there’s a cry of “BB!” somewhere to his left. 

Ben’s getting ready to stand when he’s suddenly pushed in the chest - hard - and he goes flying back into the sand, landing his ass with an ‘oof’ and a cloud of dust. He groans as his chest aches with the force of whatever hit him, trying to turn onto his side but finding that something’s holding him down. He blinks, squinting in the sun to see a silhouette of a - girl? “What the-?”

Chewie roars angrily, his bowcaster aimed towards the girl who has her staff at Ben’s chest, already in an attack position should he move the wrong way. 

The smuggler’s son stares up at her in surprise. She’s a common desert rat, really, dressed all in brown and cream-colored rags, wrapped around her slight form to protect her skin from the sun. Her chest is heaving, most likely from chasing after the BB unit. She’s looking down at him with something akin to fury and confusion combined, dark brows furrowed. If he tilts his head slightly, he can see that her hair’s pulled back into three buns down the back of her head to keep it out of her face and relatively dust-free. He blinks at her, somewhat shocked that this young woman managed to knock him on his ass; with a staff that looks like it’s been cobbled together by a 6 year old, no less. He follows line of her staff all the way up to her face, staring at her in something akin to awe and annoyance rolled into one expression.

She might be pretty, if she didn’t have a weapon aimed at his chest, he thinks.  

“Who are you?” 

The question tumbles from both of their lips at once, his in utter confusion and hers more of a demand. Ben stares up at her before narrowing his eyes, grabbing the end of her staff and pushing it back against her. As strong as he has no doubt she is, he’s stronger, and she stumbles back a few steps as he sits up, still holding the butt of her staff in his right palm. “Depends on who you are,” he snaps as he tries to use her staff to get to his feet. She pushes him right back down, and he lands back in the dust with a grunt, his right hand now pinned to the ground. “All right, c’mon, lemme up.”

To his complete and utter not-surprise, she doesn’t.

The girl’s joined by another man a mere moment later. Another man who’s wearing Poe’s jacket, and holding an ancient-looking blaster. Chewie growls in warning, but Ben scrambles to his feet, knocking the girl’s staff out of the way once again - and more successfully this time. His heart freezes when he sees the jacket more clearly, and it aches when he thinks of how Poe was wearing it not two months ago in the mess hall of the base.

“Where did you get that jacket?” he growls. He glares at the man, taking a step forward before he finds himself on the other end of the man’s blaster, the barrel of it pressing into his chest as the other man keeps him back away from the girl. One flinch forward, and the weapon’s digging into his chest now. Ben grunts; when he glances down at it, he notices that it’s a deactivated weapon - no ammo, and no power, and probably left over from Imperial times to boot. “… you know that thing’s an antique, right? Not to mention, you know, broken,” he mutters, nodding towards the weapon in the man’s hand. The man looks surprised, then slightly embarrassed as he lowers the junk back to his side. 

Chewie’s still aiming at the duo, his weapon already activated and ready to fire. Ben turns and waves him down, shaking his head. “No, no, don’t,” he mumbles. The Wookie makes a kind of frustrated, angry sound before lowering the bowcaster. Ben looks back at the two; they couldn’t have been older than 20 or so. “Where did you get that jacket?” he asks again. 

The girl speaks for the other man. “It belonged to BB’s master, P-“

“Poe Dameron,” the two men say at the same time. Their eyes dart to each other. 

“How did you know Poe?” Ben demands. 

“I got him off of the Finalizer,” the man insists. 

“The Finalizer?” Ben asks, voice pitched higher in shock. He looks between the girl and the other man. “What was he doing there?” 

The other man opens his mouth to respond, but the girl’s apparently not satisfied with Ben’s own lack of answers. “He rescued him. He’s from the Resistance,” she says, jerking her head towards the other man. “Who are you?” 

Ben looks towards the other man and frowns. He’s never seen him on base before, and judging by the way the man is avoiding his eyes, he’s fairly sure that this man is definitely not from the Resistance. “Poe’s friend,” Ben answers vaguely, looking down at BB-8 who beeps in agreement.

“That’s not an answer.” It’s not the answer she’s looking for, but at least the staff is lowered from Ben’s direction before being brought down by her side. She looks between the droid and Ben curiously, face smoothing out slightly as BB-8 rolls towards Ben’s feet, knocking at his ankles.

“That’s what you’re getting for now,” he says, looking down at BB-8. The droid looks up at him expectantly. “I can get him back to the base. Do you know where I can get an Incom N21-4 power converter?” He casts a glance back towards her. 

“There are power converters, but I don’t think any of those,” the girl says.

 “Is there anything compatible?”

“Probably,” she says. “But Unkar Plutt will charge you significantly more for it.” 

“I don’t care - I need that converter,” he insists. “And then I promise you, I’ll take this droid back to the base.” He looks towards the other man, eyes raking him up and down. “… and you, too.” 

The look of relief on the man’s face is borderline heartbreaking. Ben guesses that while he may not be part of the Resistance yet, he’s eager to join it - or at least to get away from this backwater planet. He can’t blame the man for that - he hasn’t been here for an hour, and already he’s itching to leave this place.

“Do you have portions?” the girl asks. 

Ben looks towards Chewie, who shrugs. They use the replicator, not portions. He looks back towards her and shrugs as well. “Yeah, I think so. We should have some.”

Her hand tightens on her staff, and she raises her chin. Ben’s getting the feeling this girl’s a force to be reckoned with. “20, and I can get you the converter,” she says, tone leaving no room for bargaining. 

He won’t argue; they don’t have the time for it, despite what his father taught him. “Done,” he replies without much thought. In all honesty, he has no idea what portions he has on board since they're used for emergency situations most of the time, but he’s willing to bet there are some hidden somewhere. 

The girl seems pleased with his answer, her shoulders losing some of their tension. She jerks her head towards the center of the outpost, the hub of activity. “Over here,” she tells him. And then she’s off, turning and walking towards some big box-like structure in with purposeful, powerful strides. BB-8 follows her without question, rolling nearly at her heels. 

The other man hesitates, looking back towards Ben. “Look, I-“ he starts, but Ben shakes his head and holds his hand up.

“Later,” the taller of the two replies. “There’ll be plenty of time for sob-story-telling on the way back to base. C’mon, I want to get off this planet, and I can tell you do too,” he mutters as he starts walking. 

“Finn,” the man supplies as he falls into step beside Ben. “I’m Finn.” 

“Ben.” He jerks his head towards his uncle. “Chewie.” 

Chewie roars a greeting. Finn stares in response. “What’d he say?” 

Ben snorts. “He said hello,” he says before he quickens his pace to follow the girl. 


	2. Jakku

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Against my better judgement, I've decided to continue with this story. I have no idea how many chapters it'll have, or where I'm going with it, but I'm continuing with it. Thank you all so much for the wonderful response on the first chapter - I'm so glad you all liked the idea, and I hope I do it justice.  
> I made an edit for this fic on my Tumblr with a link to the fic, if any readers have a Tumblr and would like to share this story. It's under stoptakingmyhandx.

The girl stops abruptly about twenty paces from Unkar Plutt’s concession stand, BB-8 nearly running right into her calves with a startled squeal. Ben frowns at the stop, coming to stand next to her. She’s a small thing, a good head shorter than him, he notices as he follows where she’s looking. He stares for a moment, finding nothing of interest and instead looking back down at her. “Something wrong?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest and watching her as she looks around the outpost.

She doesn’t answer for a moment. Her brown eyes flick between stalls. “… none of them will have power converters,” she explains. “Unkar Plutt will have to do.” 

“I thought you said you could get me the power converter for cheaper.” 

“I did,” she insists. “And I will. But we need to get him away from the stand so I can get inside it.” She nods towards the large, metal, box-like structure in the middle of the marketplace. “However, with a line like that, we won’t be able to get him away for a while.” 

Ben follows her eyes, and raises both eyebrows as he sees the line of lifeforms waiting to exchange their parts for portions. Several of them have carts or sacks in tow, bits of metal poking out of crates and mesh nets. “… you’re saying we need to wait in line so that you can steal it?” he asks, looking back down at her. She doesn’t return his gaze, instead staring at the line. 

“I’m saying we need something to be more important to him than the line,” she replies. 

“A distraction,” he clarifies.

Now she looks at him. It’s not a kind look; in fact, it reminds him a lot of his mother, specifically when he’s gone and done something so very much like something his father would do. “Yes,” she says, sounding annoyed.

He nods, looking back out towards the stand and the blob of a creature inside of it. “A distraction. I can do that.” 

She looks at him skeptically. 

Ben scoffs before he jerks his head back towards Chewie. “I have a Wookie,” he says, as if that would explain it all.

Said Wookie makes an indignant sound, head tilting. The girl raises one eyebrow. Finn shifts beside Ben, uneasy.

“I have a Wookie with a bowcaster,” Ben supplies. 

She’s still looking at him incredibly skeptically, so instead he just turns towards Chewie, hands open. “Can I borrow that?” he asks, nodding towards the bowcaster. His uncle shrugs and hands it over. Ben’s not exactly inexperienced with the weapon, no matter what he might tell his parents. He’s shot the thing a few times in desperate situations, his aim with the weapon not entirely perfect but decent enough. 

Ben takes it and, as discreetly as he can, aims towards one of the metal panels that make up the marketplace roof. The structure itself is shoddy enough; he’s frankly surprised one hasn’t fallen down sooner. While it won’t destroy the concession stand itself, it’s definitely close enough to cause some disruption - and hopefully give them their opportunity. He fires, bracing himself for the force of the bolt leaving the bowcaster. The bolt hits where four of the panels overlap, the metal squares relying on each other. With no support, the four panels come crashing down. Hard. 

He braces himself for the impact, dust clouding as the metal collapses to the ground. While his shot doesn’t bring the entire roof down, the shoddy construction of the place results in more panels than he’d intended. Four becomes five, and then six. He curls away from the destruction, feeling the girl beside him as she shields herself as well. A quick peek through the dust and sand shows that Finn’s taken it upon himself to step in front of her, protecting her body from errant dust and metal pieces. 

The effect of the destruction is immediate. Ben coughs at the dust that’s still clouding in the air, and hands the bowcaster back to Chewie as the marketplace erupts into chaos at the loud crash of the roof. Though he’d aimed well, he’d failed to plan well, and the metal had fallen on two stalls. He winces as he hears the angry cries of some now very-pissed off creatures. “Sorry,” he mutters under his breath, shielding his eyes from the sand and trying to wave it away from his face with little to no luck.

“You’re crazy,” the girl mutters. Ben blinks, eyes watering, as the girl’s metal staff is pressed into his hands. “Hold this,” she instructs, before darting off through the chaos. The males stand and watch the slip of a scavenger as she darts to the side of the concession stand. She crouches low, hiding beneath the counter as the Crolute staggers out of the stand on chubby legs, rushing towards the collapse of the roof and trying to regain some sense of order so as to continue business as usual. 

Ben observes, impressed, as she slips inside the stand without notice, the lifeforms in line too distracted by the disappearance of their junk boss and the collapse of the roof to pay any attention to her. He only has to wait for maybe a moment or so before she emerges, clutching a dirty ship part under her arm. She rushes back towards them on light feet, darting past them out towards the edges of the marketplace. Ben turns and follows her, eyes on the tails of her wrap as she moves like wind through stands and stalls and sellers. By the time they find their way out of the maze of the marketplace, he’s nearly out of breath. Finn obviously is, panting heavily behind him, and Chewie growls in annoyance beside him. 

The converter’s pressed into his hands, the metal dirty and somewhat eroded from being in the sand, but there all the same. “That should be compatible,” she tells him, hands on her hips as she tries to catch her breath. He gives her the staff back, looking down at the part she’d stolen for him.

It’s a heavy thing, but the part’s familiar enough to him that he knows it’ll work with some rigging. He nods, adjusting it so he’s holding it beneath his arm. He’ll admit it; he’s impressed. He hadn’t expected much of her, if he was honest with himself. “Come with us, and you’ll get your payment,” he tells her. “Thanks, by the way.” 

She just nods, pulling the staff and its strap over her shoulder so that it’s braced against her back. 

Ben jerks his head towards the direction of the Millennium Falcon. “She’s this way,” he explains. “If we hurry, we’ll be able to work in daylight.”

“What do you mean work in daylight?” Finn demands. 

“I needed the converter for a reason,” Ben explains as he starts walking. “Ours faulted on the way here. Can’t get very far without it.” He hoists the converter up onto his right hip, squinting into the sun and sand for any sign of their ship. It was a mistake, really, to land so far away from the outpost, but with the amount of calls out for the smuggler’s ship it wouldn’t do to take chances. Spies were everywhere these days, both for the Resistance and the First Order alike. They made his life hell, and his jobs a lot more difficult, honestly. 

He casts a glance back at the duo. Finn’s struggling slightly, forehead shining with sweat due to the heat of the planet. The girl seems fine, scrambling up the dunes quicker than he and waiting at the top for the rest of them. 

It takes a good fifteen minutes before he can see his ship in the middle of the sand. He stops, free hand on the hip that isn't supporting the converter. “There she is.” 

The girl stops and stands next to him, leaning on her staff. He hears her scoff, and glares down at her. She’s looking at the ship with amusement, a smirk playing at her lips and one dark brow raised. “Your ship is garbage,” she tells him. 

“Hey, don’t knock it ’til you fly it,” he mutters, before he hears something in the direction of the ship that makes him worry. He frowns slightly at the loud banging he hears, puts two and two together and runs as best as he can in the sand while holding a very heavy converter. What he sees makes his vision swim with anger, dark eyes glaring at the figures he can see clinging to the side of his ship. “HEY!” 

One of the scavengers drops from the hull of the ship with a startled squeal, while the other two turn to look at him. He drops the converter and breaks into a sprint, nearly tripping over his own big feet in the process. “THAT’S MY SHIP!” 

He damn near falls when there’s a shout behind him in a language he doesn’t know, the girl’s voice sharp and demanding. Ben watches as the three scavengers drop the pieces they were holding and take off towards the sun, small forms silhouetted by the light. He rushes forward and gathers the pieces they’d wrenched from his ship, cursing loudly. They’re not vital to the flight back to D’Qar, but they’ll need to be put back all the same. “Great,” he mutters, clutching the metal to his chest and putting two pieces in the pockets of his pants. He feels her beside him, picking up another two pieces he’d yet to get. “What’d you yell?” he asks, holding out his hands for the parts. 

She surrenders them, shouldering her staff. “I said that it wasn’t theirs,” she says simply. 

He snorts as he reaches up and presses his hand against the latch, the ramp descending for them. A quick look back tells him that Finn’s grabbed the converter, cradling it to his chest while BB-8 rolls beside him. Chewie follows, roaring in dismay when he gets close to Ben. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine, nothing vital,” Ben tells him, shaking his head. “We can put them back once we’re at the base. But first, converter.” He looks towards the girl, then to Chewie. “Get her the portions. If there are any more than 20, give her those, too.” 

Chewie growls in confusion before walking up and into the ship to investigate what they had. Ben hopes to hell and back that they have enough. BB-8 follows the Wookie, rolling up the ramp and beeping cheerfully at the idea of getting back to the base.

“I really only need 20,” the girl mutters as Ben starts to ascent into the ship. He walks in and dumps the parts he’d collected down before reaching towards Finn. The other man hands over the converter, and Ben grabs a toolbox before walking back outside, the girl on his heels. “I don’t need more than that.” 

“Well, you’re getting it if we have it,” he tells her as he walks around the side. He grabs a rope attached to a magnet, throwing it onto the side of the ship and hoists himself up, pulling himself up to where the busted converter is as the girl and Finn watch. “Toolbox?” he asks, hanging onto the rope and reaching down for it. Finn obliges, grabbing it and holding it up to him. He pushes it onto the top of the ship and pulls himself the rest of the way up. He rummages around, finding the tool that he needs and starting to work on extracting the old converter. 

The thing’s busted good, thanks to a hit from an errant asteroid. He sighs, and leans over the edge, holding the old converter out to the scavenger with a raised brow. “Will this get you anything?” he asks. “It’s not really usable, but-“ 

“Yes,” she replies immediately, the word breathed in disbelief. He shrugs, leaning over further and letting it drop to the sand. She picks it up directly after, examining it left and right as Finn and Ben watch her. In the shadow of the ship, he can barely see her small, sweet smile as she tips the converter over and examines it further.

He turns back to the converter she'd stolen, peering down into the chamber where the part goes and frowning deeply. “Hey, you have any experience fixing things and not just taking them apart?” he yells down, peering over the edge at her and the other man. 

“Why?” she demands. He casts glance back at the converter. 

“I might need help,” he offers. “Wanna take a look?” 

She hands the old converter to Finn before she grabs onto the rope and scrambles up, ignoring the hand Ben offers to help her on top of the ship. She clambers over the side and crouches near the converter, frowning at what she sees. “Bonding tape?” she asks, and he grabs the yellow tape to hand it to her. 

She’s just torn a piece off with her teeth when there’s a deafening screech from overhead. Ben’s torn between wincing and covering his ears, and being an idiot and looking up. 

Naturally, he chooses the latter. His eyes widen as he sees the TIE flying low overhead, wind ruffling his hair and lifting the few stray strands of hers. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” 

The rope attached to the ship is tugged harshly, and he peers over the edge to see Finn gesturing wildly. “We have to go, now!” 

“We’re not going anywhere without this converter, kid!” he insists, turning back towards the girl. She’s working quickly, tearing off pieces of tape with her teeth and handling wires. One sparks and she curses, her hand immediately flying to her mouth. He goes in with her, holding the wires while she tapes them together in an attempt to get it to work. 

“We’ve got company!” 

The girl shrieks as a blaster bolt nearly hits them. Ben pushes her back behind him as he narrows his eyes, trying to see through the clouds of sand and dust that have suddenly appeared. His breath catches in his throat as he sees white and black uniforms. “By the Maker-“ 

“What part of ‘we’ve got company’ don’t you understand?!” Finn yells from down below. 

“Just a few more minutes! Hold them off!” Ben yells right back, grabbing his blaster from his thigh holster and tossing it down to the other man. “Chewie, we need backup!” 

He hears the Wookie roar from the ramp of the ship, and he moves so that he’s covering the girl from most of the fire. She’s working as quickly as she can with her injured hand, her skin black from grime and slicked with oil. “Harris wrench?” 

He grabs the wrench and gives it to her, and hands her the pliers when she asks. She tucks the wires around the converter and tapes them to it before taping the converter into place. He helps, holding the tape down while she grabs the panel and tries to screw it back together - tries being the key word as another bolt hits the side of the ship. She yelps again as it hits a bit too close to her ankle, and Ben tugs her away from the hit. 

“It’ll do!” he yells, pushing her towards the rope. She nearly tumbles off the edge before he fully realizes that the rope’s no longer there. “Finn!”

“Little busy!” the other man calls as he fires. Ben watches for a split second as the man manages to get two of the troopers in one, well-aimed shot. He makes a note to commend the guy later, but for now he has to find a way to slide off the ship without killing himself - or the girl next to him. He braces himself and slides down the side of the ship, grabbing onto a ledge and dangling from it. 

“What are you doing?!” she demands, rushing towards the edge and staring down at him, eyes wide in shock as he gets ready to let go. 

“Improvising!” he calls back as he lets go, hitting the sand with an “oof!” and rolling slightly. Though it isn’t the hardest of ground, he still groans in pain at the impact. That’ll hurt in the morning, that’s for damn sure. He’s barely pushed himself up before she’s landing beside him, gasping as the air’s knocked from her lungs. “… I was gonna offer to catch you, but that works too,” he wheezes before grabbing her hand and tugging her up to her feet with him. “C’mon! FINN!” he yells as he pulls her towards the ramp.

He turns to see that the other man is still shooting, Chewie by his side. The bowcaster’s done some significant damage already, a handful of troopers knocked down in one shot. Finn’s holding his own, most shots dead on and pushing the troopers back. Ben glances back to catch sight of a blaster bolt hitting Chewie in the upper arm, the smell of burnt flesh and fur reaching his nose at the same time Chewie’s pained roar hits his ears. “Finn, we’ve gotta go!” He turns to the girl and pushes her up onto the ramp. “Get in, kid!” 

“But-“ 

“Either you get in, or you die!” he insists, gritting his teeth. She hesitates but for a moment before running onto the ship. He looks back towards Finn and Chewie. Neither of them are shooting anymore, Finn instead helping the Wookie onto the ramp. Ben grabs the bowcaster from his uncle and aims blindly towards a group of troopers, managing to miss them and hit the sand in front of them instead. It serves him well, though, the sand exploding upwards and causing a bit of a distraction as he backs up the ramp. He rushes towards the cockpit, passing Chewie and Finn on the way. “Gunner’s is down there,” he directs Finn as he runs by. “Chewie, you sit with BB-8 and make sure he doesn’t hit something!” 

The Wookie roars in pain again, and Ben rolls his eyes slightly at his uncle’s martyring. “You’ve had worse, you big baby!” he yells as he runs to the cockpit. On the way, he passes the girl and grabs her wrist, tugging her along with him. “Kid, I’m gonna need your help.” 

She wrenches her wrist from his grip and runs alongside him instead. “I can’t-“ 

“You fixed a converter just fuckin’ fine, I’m sure you know how to copilot,” he insists, slipping into the cockpit and falling into the pilot’s seat. 

She slides into the copilots and starts to flick switches and press buttons. “Who usually copilots?!” 

“He’s back there with a blaster wound to the arm!” he insists as he starts the ship up. She shrieks and he grunts as the ship’s rocked by a blast to the side, the sound of a TIE flying over them almost deafening. “Kriff - blue switch to your left, turn that up! Shields!” 

She does as ordered, turning the shields up for him before returning to the seat. “BB-8, hold on!”

“How do you shoot this thing?!” Finn yells from down in the gunner’s station. Ben reaches across and turns the mechanisms on, and hears the man’s yelp of surprise as he starts to move with the ship. 

“Point and shoot!” Ben yells back as the ship rocks again from another blast. He guns it, the ship hovering for a moment before it’s off like a shot. He curses when the left side lapses, the side colliding with the outpost’s signage. The girl winces at the impact, bracing herself and clutching the console. “Hang on!” he tells her as the ship clips the top of at least three dunes, used to navigating everything but the sand of a backwater planet. 

“What do you think I’m doing?!” she insists, looking towards him as he tries to control the ship through the outpost. He takes a sharp right towards dark shapes in the distance, eyes narrowing. “What the-“ he asks, frowning at the remnants of the Battle of Jakku. 

“Stay low!” Finn calls as Ben moves to pull up. “It confuses their tracking!” 

“On it!” Ben yells back, keeping the ship as low as he can without running it into the sand. “We need cover! And fire back, damn it, before we’re dead like everything else on this damn planet!”

“Keep straight,” the girl directs him, pointing towards the looming, sand-worn ships in front of them. 

The ship rocks with another hit, and then there’s an explosion behind them. Judging by Finn’s whoop, he managed to hit one - finally, Ben thinks. But Ben can tell that even with the shields, the ship’s not in great shape after the hits. He frowns at the Imperial Star Destroyer up ahead, spotting an opening in it. “Is that-“

“Move!” It’s yelled directly in his ear, and then he’s yanked backwards. 

The girl tugs his shoulder and pulls him out of the pilot’s seat, clambering over him and forcing him into the copilot’s. She takes the controls and punches it, zooming towards the Star Destroyer. Ben grips the console as she pilots. “What the hell are you doing?!” he demands. “It’s my ship, I’m the pilot!”

“I’m getting us cover!” she insists. They both jolt as she hits the side of the ship against an outcrop of the Destroyer, Finn yelping below as another blast hits the ship. 

“The gun’s stuck in forward!” he yells. 

Ben curses underneath his breath as she turns the ship through the skeleton of the Destroyer. It’s not long before they’re shooting out the other side and she’s directing them towards another one, taking a turn sharp enough to give Ben whiplash. It confuses one of the two pursuing TIEs, though, and he watches as it collides with the remnants of another ship. Finn shoots at it for good measure. 

“Nice,” he mutters, more to her than to Finn - though he guesses the not-Resistance-man deserves praise too. 

Though he doesn’t look over at her, the pleasure is practically radiating off of her. They don’t have much of a break before the remaining TIE is on their tail. She directs the Falcon through another one of the ships. “Get ready!” 

“For what?” Both of the humans demand, Ben looking at her in surprise as Finn braces himself in the gunner’s. 

Ben watches as she ups the speed, jamming the ship forward. A small hand reaches out and yanks at the yoke, bringing the ship over and upwards. He realizes what she’s doing a split second after she’s done it, eyes going wide as he finally figures it out - she’s giving Finn a clear shot.

And judging by the firing and the whoop that follows, he took it.

Ben smirks a bit, letting the two have their victory as the girl smiles brightly beside him.

The girl continues to guide the ship through the wreckage. Though they do scrape against some of the Destroyer’s inner workings at times, Ben knows it isn’t too bad - and besides, she seems to be pretty in her element, much to his surprise. All’s fine until Ben sees her eyes widen. “Oh no…” 

He follows her gaze, towards the only exit out of the Destroyer - a slim, sun-lit slit between the metal. “We’re not going to make it,” she insists, trying to pull up and out of one of the holes in the top of the ship. But it’s too late, and they don’t have enough room, he knows. They can make it. He knows they can; he knows for a fact that his father’s navigated worse before, been in slimmer situations. He pushes himself up, all reflexes alert.

“Yes, we are!” he says, reaching around and grabbing the controls from her. She’s still in the pilot’s seat, and he leans over her as he guides the ship back towards the slit. 

“No, we’re not!” she cries, bracing herself for impact as he guns it. If nothing else, the impact will help them break through, he thinks - and hopefully without too much damage to his father’s ship. 

“We are!” he insists, moving the controls just at the right time. There’s a deafening scraping sound as the side of the ship grazes the side of the narrow hole, the two in the cockpit wincing at the noise. But he guides them out relatively unharmed, zooming past the clouds and out into the blackness of space. 

He lets himself laugh softly once they’re free of the TIEs. “That was some damn good piloting, kid,” he breathes, looking towards her. 

“Rey,” she tells him, breathing just as hard as he, adrenaline still coursing through their veins. 

“Rey,” he repeats, testing the name on his tongue and deciding he likes it. Simple and sweet. 

“WOOHOO!” 

Finn bursts into the cockpit half a second later, grin brighter than sunshine and slightly disarming as Rey stands to greet him. “That was awesome!” He and Rey grab at each other, words stumbling over their lips in their adrenaline rush. Ben can't be bothered to listen to their conversation as he sets the ship in autopilot and turns off some of the controls they don't need right now to conserve fuel, but he catches blips of compliments as they move around each other like orbiting planets, grinning like idiots. 

“Nice shooting,” Ben commends, leaning back in the seat after letting the ship go to autopilot towards D’Qar, fairly certain that they couldn’t be tracked anymore. “You ever gun a ship before?” 

“Once,” the man admits, his smile fading so quickly Ben’s actually kind of unnerved by it’s disappearance. 

He stands, stretching and popping his back before starting to walk back towards the living parts of the ship. “Chewie?” he calls, in search of his uncle.

The Wookie’s pitiful roar comes from the lounge, and Ben resists the urge to roll his eyes as he rounds the corner. His uncle’s clutching his arm, rocking slightly on the seats. 

“All right, all right,” he mutters, settling next to the Wookie and looking up towards Finn and Rey, who’d followed him from the cockpit. “Far left panel. Hit that button,” he directs, jerking his head to give Finn the direction. The man turns and presses the button, blinking as the panel pops open to reveal a medikit. The brown box is handed to Ben, who sets it on the table and rummages through it, coming out with bandages and Bacta. Chewie whines softly as the man sets to examining the wound. 

The very shallow, very small wound. 

Ben slams the Bacta and bandages down on the table. “Really?” he asks, exasperated and raising both eyebrows at his uncle. “Really. Really?!” he demands, gesturing to what was barely a burn. 

Chewie roars softly, shrugging slightly as Ben sighs and applies Bacta, wrapping the ‘wound’ in bandages. The Wookie gives a pleased growl, pulling Ben in for a hug as soon as the bandage is set. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I love you, too,” Ben mutters before extricating himself from the hug and setting about putting the medikit back in the cabinet. As soon as that’s dealt with, and Chewie’s sated with his wound care, Ben leans against the closest wall, arms over his chest. 

“So,” he starts, nodding towards the droid that’s currently rolling towards his feet. “BB-8 didn’t manage to tell me much before you two came along.” He raises one dark eyebrow at the two. “Care to fill me in on why Poe Dameron was on the Finalizer, and why I’m taking this droid back to the base?”

Finn opens his mouth, but Rey beats him to it. “He’s carrying a map to Luke Skywalker.” 

The feeling of air getting knocked out of his chest is becoming way too familiar, at this point. He gapes at them. “…. what?” he demands. Chewie roars the same sentiment. Ben shushes him, waving him down.

“That’s what I thought!” Rey insists. “I thought he was just a myth!” 

Ben barks a laugh, hand moving through his hair. “Oh, Maker,” he breathes, shaking his head. “No, no, he’s definitely not a myth.” He actually snorts at the concept of his uncle being considered a mythological being, only talked about as a fairytale. “No, he’s real, all right.” He laughs again, jerking his head towards the table Chewie’s currently sitting at. “He’s sat right there several times, actually.” 

Now it’s Finn’s turn to ask, “What?” 

Ben snorts, shaking his head. “This is the Millennium Falcon,” he explains. He jerks his chin up slightly, gesturing to himself. “Ben Solo.” 

“Solo?” Rey demands. “Like-“

“Like Han Solo?” he asks, allowing himself a bit of a smirk. “Yeah, exactly like Han Solo. He’s my father.”


	3. The Eravana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to the last true-to-TFA chaper. From here on out, it's going to be more original content and original plot (seeing as we don't exactly have a Kylo Ren to move everything along like in TFA). Forgive me for stealing a few phrases and choice words from the novel in this one; novel Han is a lot funnier than screen Han, in my opinion, and I just had to keep a few things since they made me (and Ben) groan.  
> Hope you enjoy!

It’s slightly pathetic that this reaction – the wide eyes, open mouths and looks of shock – are perhaps the most familiar thing he knows. Ben’s used to the heartbeat of silence that follows his words. He's fully aware he’s just dropped the bomb that always, without fail, resulted in dozens of questions. He’s played this game before, too many times to count over the years. He knows how it goes by now. 

“Your father’s Han Solo,” Rey states. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” he replies. 

“This is the Millennium Falcon,” Finn adds. 

“I literally just told you that.”

The scavenger and the man stare at him in disbelief. Finn looks a little shell-shocked, eyes wide and slightly fearful. Rey’s looking at him in complete and utter awe. 

Ben’s no stranger to it. This kind of thing happens when he tells anyone about his father, mother, or uncle. He reveled in it when he was younger; he marveled at the idea of celebrity status and being a part of this famous family.

Now, though? Now he just shrugs, pushing off of the wall and slipping into the bench with Chewie, propping his feet up on the table. They’re still staring. It makes him kind of uncomfortable, and so he averts their eyes in favor of watching Chewie poke at the bandages. He slaps the Wookie’s fingers away. “Stop it,” he scolds. Chewie growls in response, but stops picking at the bandage that’s sticking to his fur. 

“I -“ Rey starts, and Ben’s eyes dart back to her as she moves towards him. He watches as her hand swings forward and brushes against her wrap, and she hisses in pain, looking down at the burn she’d received earlier from the faulty wires. 

He hums. “Want something for that?” he asks, standing up and out of his seat and strolling back over to the medikit cabinet before she can reply. He fishes the box back out, setting it back down on the table and grabbing burn salve and a smaller bandage than the one he’d put on Chewie. “You want help?” he asks, holding them out to her. “It might be a little hard to do it yourself, it being on your hand and all.”

She’s looking at the supplies curiously, a little bit confused. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for her to take them before he realizes that she’s not going to. He takes her good hand and puts the tube of salve and the bandage in it, curling her small fingers around them.

“So, Resistance,” he says to Finn, putting the medikit back for what he hopes is the last time for a while. He looks towards Rey, who’s starting to unravel the bandage, still looking a bit confused at the idea of medical supplies. “Anywhere you need to go after we drop this one,” he jerks his head towards the droid at her feet, “off?” He turns, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning with his shoulder against the cabinet. “I can take you anywhere in the galaxy. You name it.” 

She avoids his eyes as she tries to figure out how to open the tube of salve. She eventually just wrenches it open by brute force, despite Finn reaching forward to help her. “I need to get back to Jakku,” she insists. 

“That junkyard? C’mon, sweetheart, you don’t want to go back there. I just told you I can take you anywhere, and you want to go back?” Ben asks, incredulous. 

“Don’t call me that.” It comes out a lot harsher than Ben was expecting from such a small little thing, and he blinks in surprise as she slathers her hand in salve. “… I just need to go back.” 

“You got someone back there?” he questions, tilting his head. 

“Family? Boyfriend? Cute boyfriend?” Finn asks almost desperately and Ben slowly turns to look at him, eyebrow raised in questioning. The other man flushes almost immediately, looking back at Rey quickly.

Huh. So that’s how it is. Ben smirks and looks back towards the scavenger girl who’s struggling with the length of fabric in her hand. She growls as she realizes that it’s too long and tries to tear it with slippery fingers before giving up. Rey rips a piece of the bandage off with her teeth, setting the excess aside on the table. “None of your business, that’s what,” she mutters as she starts to wrap her hand. 

“Fine, okay, I’ll take you back to Jakku,” Ben says, holding his hands up as he pushes himself off of the storage unit. “No more questions asked, all right?” He jerks his head towards the cockpit. “I need to send a message. Tell them about … Dameron, and the change in course.” 

Finn nods understandingly as Rey struggles to keep the bandage sticking to itself, frowning as she tries to get it to tie to no avail. Ben heads back towards the cockpit, casting a glance back at the pair before continuing on his way. 

-

It takes him a good seven minutes to work up the nerve to hail his mother. It takes another five to actually type the code in for the Resistance base, and another three of asking himself if he really wants to be the bearer of bad news. 

He has to encrypt the message, and make it as vague as possible to avoid interference. It’s a pain in the ass, honestly, and the encryption takes a lot longer than he wants it to. 

“Damn,” he sighs, running his fingers through his hair and leaning against the console as the transceiver prepares itself for his message. He reaches over and presses the button, then lets it go. How in the hell was he supposed to tell his mother that her favorite pilot was dead? He’s not entirely sure he can make the words come out of his mouth. Poe Dameron. Dead.

He swallows, reaches for the button, and then starts to speak. His voice doesn’t work at first, so he coughs and tries again. “Ben,” he starts. “To General. Dameron …” How could he put this? He sighs again, fingers clenching against his scalp. “Dameron dead. Change in course. BB-8 unit on Falcon. Approaching base by morning. Two passengers. Out.” 

He severs the link and sends the message on its way towards the base, hoping to hell that it would manage to get its way to his mother without anyone else getting a hold of it. He knew how to be vague enough, sure. It’s not the first encrypted message he’s sent to the Resistance, far from; and he knows it’s definitely not his last. But it’s certainly the saddest one he’s sent. He leans back in the chair, hand still in his hair and eyes falling closed. 

“You’re really Ben Solo?” 

He doesn’t open his eyes, humming his response. “Mhmm.” 

“Your father’s a famous smuggler,” she tells him. He can feel her beside him, her legs brushing his as she slips into the copilot’s seat. 

“That’s one thing to call him,” he mutters. 

“What else is he called?” 

“A war hero, which I always found kind of hilarious,” he admits. “A conman. A thief. A scoundrel. Or, more commonly, a bastard.” He opens one eye to look at her. Her hand has been rebandaged; quite well, actually. She must’ve had Finn’s help. He makes to look towards the lounge, but instead he finds Finn leaning against the doorway. 

“And what are you?” Finn asks.

“All of the above,” Ben replies, honestly. He sits up slightly, narrowing his eyes at the other man. “Now, you wanna tell me what Poe Dameron was doing on the Finalizer?” 

Finn opens his mouth to answer just as the lights flicker, and then dim entirely. All three look up at the sudden darkness. Ben’s heart stops for a second and he pushes himself out of the pilots seat. “Chewie?” Ben calls, walking back to the Wookie. “What’s going on?”

His uncle’s still sitting in the lounge and shrugs, replying with a simple growled I don’t know. Ben turns on his heel, nearly running right into Finn, who’d followed him. “Move,” he snaps as he hurries his way back to the cockpit. 

The console’s dead. He flips a few switches on his side, Rey doing the same from where she’s sitting in the copilots. Nothing happens. No lights, no sounds, nothing. “Someone’s locked onto us,” he mutters as he tries everything again without success.

“Who?” Finn demands, rushing to the console in an attempt to look out the window, practically climbing over the other man. Ben grimaces and pushes him back in an attempt to get the controls working again. Nothing works; even the lights on the switches are gone. 

“No clue,” Ben admits he tries to look up at the ship that had taken them. 

“Are you kidding me?” Finn hisses as he moves back, glaring at Ben. “It’s the First Order, it has to be!”

“It is not the First Order,” Ben replies slowly, as if speaking to a child. He casts a glance towards the panicking young man, Finn’s hands clenched tight on the back of Rey’s seat. “Calm down, okay?”

He doesn’t actually know if it’s the First Order, he suddenly realizes. He stands, leaning on the console and trying to see above the ship. It’s a freighter; a big, industrial one. He lets out a sigh of soft relief. This is no First Order ship – there’s no dark sleekness to this ship, to the hangar they’re being pulled into. He allows himself to relax marginally, but the man beside him is stiff as a board, still clinging onto Rey’s seat with pale knuckles. 

“It’s the First Order,” he mutters. “They’ve got us. We’re gone.” 

“It’s not the First Order, they haven't got us, and we're not gone,” Ben tries to reason – again - as he stand down and walks to the lounge. “If it’s anyone of importance, it has to do with me, okay?” he yells, trying to assure the other man. “Calm down, okay? I can get us out of anything.”

Chewie roars in laughter. “I can too!” Ben hisses as he jams his fist against one of the compartments, the door swinging open with the force of his hand. He reaches in and grabs two extra blasters, one in each hand. He glares at his uncle as Chewie looks at him skeptically. 

“I’ve done it before, you know,” Ben insists, walking back towards the cockpit. He offers one of the blasters to Finn. “Nice shooting on Jakku. Think you could do it again?” 

Finn merely nods, taking the weapon and examining it. Ben offers the other one to Rey, who shakes her head. “I can handle myse-“

“It’s not an option, sweetheart; it’s an order,” Ben insists, grabbing her good hand and forcing the blaster into it. He turns suddenly as the pull on the Falcon stops, the ship locking into place in the hangar. “Sithspit. We’ve gotta go.”

Finn takes his eyes off of the blaster to look at Ben in shock. “Exactly where are we going?” 

“We’re hiding!” Ben mutters, walking around them, boots clicking on the metal floor as he steps up around the living area. He unlatches two of the secret compartments in the floor in the hallway, pulling the doors up to reveal smuggling space beneath the panels. He waves them on, gesturing down into the space. “C’mon! In!” 

“That’s not going to stop them,” Finn insists just before Ben grabs him by the shirt collar and pulls him towards the hole.

“It’ll delay them, then,” Ben replies before pushing on the man’s shoulder to get him to go down. Finn drops down into the compartment, moving to the side and crouching below the floor. Chewie offers BB-8 to the other man, who nearly collapses beneath the droid’s weight with a groan. The Wookie slides in after him, roaring in protest at the low height. 

“Yeah, I know you’re tall, so am I!” Ben looks towards the door as he hears the muted sound of the ship’s ramp lowering. “Shit,” he mutters, closing the door on top of Finn and Chewie to both of their protests; Finn’s a cried “Hey!” and Chewie’s an indignant growl.

He slides easily into the other one, offering his hands up to Rey. She moves down to sit on the edge of the compartment, legs dangling into the hole as she braces herself to jump in. He reaches up for her but she just knocks his hands aside, glaring at him. “I can do it, I-” she starts before the door starts to open. 

There’s no time. He grabs her around the waist and pulls her down into the smuggling spot before pulling the door over them, ignoring her dirty cursing and struggling against him. He finds her mouth with his hand and presses his palm against her lips, shushing her softly. Thank the Maker, she obeys, and stops writhing against him. She pulls his hand down from her mouth as he stares up at the slivers of light, trying in vain to see who was walking above them. 

There’s only one pair of footsteps, that he can tell. And they’re certainly not the regular, almost mechanical steps of a Stormtrooper. He frowns, squinting at the light and gripping Rey tighter as the figure walks over towards the other side of the ship.

It’s nearly silent for a moment, the only sounds the whirring of the ship’s mechanics and their own harsh breathing. He holds his breath as the footsteps grow closer again, and resists the urge to sigh in relief when she follows his lead and does the same. They stand in the small space for a few moments, air caught in their throats as they watch the same sliver of light.

His head is just barely brushing the door panel, but he feels it when there’s a sharp kick to the floor right above him. “Ow, fuck!”  
It hurts like hell and he curses again as he ducks, running his hand over the top of his head. He can just see her eyes, wide in surprise and fear. It’s only then that he realized that he cursed audibly - and very very loudly, at that. 

The panel’s yanked up and he immediately reaches for his blaster, moving to push Rey behind him before he hears a chuckle. 

“Calm down, kid, it’s only me.” 

Ben chances a glance upwards, and sighs heavily. He holsters his blaster with a huff. “Could’ve given us a little warning, you know, old man,” he mutters. “And maybe, you know, not have scared the shit out of us?” There isn’t enough room to put his hands on his hips, so he just looks up at his father with one raised eyebrow, not amused. 

Han, however, looks very much amused, smirking down at his son as he puts away his own blaster. He reaches one calloused hand down to Ben and his son takes it, allowing himself to be helped out of the smuggler’s hiding spot. He reaches around to help Rey, but she’s already hoisted herself out and has gone to help Finn, Chewie and BB-8 out of their compartments. She pulls the panel off and grabs BB-8 as he’s lifted up by Chewie, and then offers her hand to Finn as the Wookie climbs out. 

“New jacket?” Ben asks, looking his father up and down. It’s been weeks since they last crossed paths on Canto Bight. That hadn’t been a pretty or pleasant encounter either. Lots of yelling and plenty of blaster burns from near grazes. The one on his thigh is still pink and puckered, the skin tight and new. 

“Old jacket. New ship,” Han explains. “What’re you doing out near here? I thought your newest run was near the Hosnian system.” His father’s suddenly frowning, eyes flicking between Chewie, the droid, and the two strangers who are now standing beside each other. 

Ben huffs and runs a hand through his hair, glancing towards Rey and Finn. “Avoiding conflict and managing to find myself right in the middle of it.”

“Pick up a Skywalker by any chance?” Han mutters, looking the two passengers up and down. 

Ben snorts before nodding towards BB-8. “Close.” 

His father’s eyes follows the gesture, raising one bushy at the droid who’s rolled to Ben’s feet, BB-8’s cold metal side up against Ben’s left calve. “… what?” he demands.

“So Mom didn’t tell you, either, then.” 

“Your mother never tells me anything, you know that damn well.” 

“The droid has a map to Uncle Luke,” he explains. “Or so he,” Ben jerks his head towards Finn, “says.”

Ben watches as his father’s face freezes, eyes locked onto the BB-8 unit who’s now analyzing the older man curiously. 

“… you’ve gotta be shitting me, kid.”

-

The freighter’s a large thing, significantly bigger than any of the other ships his father’s had in his possession since the Falcon. Ben admires it as they walk, looking up and around and noting all the possible smuggling spots. It’s nice ship, he has to admit. A lot bigger than the Falcon, and his father’s previous ship, a small and junky little freighter he got for a good price back on Coruscant a few months after Ben took the Falcon from him. Ben’s sure this ship cost his father significantly more than what the other ship could’ve gotten him, no matter how stupid the buyer. He casts a glance towards Han. 

“How’d you afford it?” Ben asks skeptically as his father leads them through the hangars. It’s a split second after that he holds up his hand and shakes his head. “You know what, I don’t really want to know. Did you tell Mom?” 

“No,” Han replies flatly as he turns a corner. 

Ben hides a smirk as he looks away from his father, pretending to continue admiring the new ship. “You planning to?” 

“No,” the smuggler replies as he leads them down a hallway and takes a sharp left. He gestures to some of the crates holding scrap metal. “There might – and I say might – be a converter in there. Take what else you need, too. Did you fly her through an asteroid field or something? She looks awful.”

“Close,” Ben admits as he kneels next to a crate. Rey’s already striding across the room, wide eyes darting around the scrap. “Jakku.”

“Jakku? What were you doing at the junkyard?” Han demands, staring at his son. 

“See!” Finn insists, looking towards Rey. “Junkyard!” 

Ben hushes him, waving the man into silence. “Needed a converter. She got one for us,” he explains, jerking his head towards Rey. “It needed a bit of rigging, but it worked well enough.” 

Han looks towards the girl who’s rummaging through a crate, picking up every little piece and examining it. Two bits are peeking out of the bag on her belt, shiny and unused but unwanted. “… you serious?” 

“It would’ve lasted us until D’Qar, too,” Ben mutters bitterly as he continues to search. 

“Well, I’m sorry for wondering what my son was doing this far out away from course,” Han snaps. 

Ben rolls his eyes, and is promptly knocked on his ass when something from the next room over throws itself against the wall. He falls back, casting a glance towards Rey who was also thrown off of her feet. He looks up at Han. “… what was that?” 

Han’s frowning, glaring at the right wall. “Damn rathtars trying to get out, that’s what.” 

Of all the things he’d expected his father to reply with, that was not one of them. “Rathtars?” Ben demands, scrambling to his feet. “You’re not hauling rathtars.” 

“I’m hauling rathtars.” 

“What are rathtars?” Rey asks from her position on the floor, parts scattered around her. They roll across the floor and bounce slightly when there’s another loud bang, and Ben nearly falls to the floor again from the force of the creature throwing itself against its containment. He braces himself against one of the supply crates, glaring at his father.

“I can’t believe you took that job,” he mutters. “You’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

“What, you were offered it too?” Han asks. “And you didn’t take it?!”

“Yes! I mean, no, I didn’t take it! Because I'm not stupid!” 

“It’s good money, Ben!” 

“It’s also suicide mission!” He runs his hand through his hair angrily, huffing. “Dad, I can’t believe-“ 

“Ben, I’ve got it handled.” 

“Like hell you do!” he insists as the creature throws itself again. This time he does fall to the floor again. Chewie roars as Finn yelps, falling and bringing the Wookie down with him. Rey, smartly, had never gotten up. “Is that why you’re the only one on here? Where the hell’s the rest of your crew, huh?” 

“Ben-“ 

A loud, mechanic clang interrupts him, Han’s eyes turning to the control panel. Ben watches from the floor as his father rushes over and curses at what he sees. With the floor somewhat steady again, Ben stands. “What is it?” 

“It's the Guavian Death Gang,” Han mutters, watching the screen. “They must've tracked us from Nantoon.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Ben mumbles as he rushes over, leaning over his father and watching as the transport ship starts to land on the freighter. “Just how many people have you pissed off since I last saw you?” 

“A few,” Han admits. “C’mon.” He jerks his head down the hallway. “We’ll get you the converter later.” 

“What’s a rathtar?” Rey demands again, appearing beside Ben as they start to walk briskly down the corridors, following his father through the maze of cargo holds. 

“You want the scientific description or a brief one?” Ben mutters, nearly tripping over himself as his father turns the corner a little too quickly. 

“Brief.” 

“They’re big and ugly and dangerous and my father’s an idiot for hauling one!” Ben snaps, making sure his voice is loud enough for Han to hear. 

“Three!” the man yells back.

“Three?!” Ben demands. “Scratch that, you’re not an idiot, old man – you’re insane!"

“You ever heard of the Trillia Massacre?” Finn asks Rey, who shakes her head no. “Good.” 

Ben turns the corner and nearly walks right into his father's back. He watches as Han kicks at the floor, opening a hatch down into the ship’s crawlspace and gesturing down into it. “Ben, Chewie, you’re with me. The other two go below deck, you’ll be safe there. We’ll keep the droid with us.”

“Why can’t we stay up here?” Rey insists, looking between the smuggler and his son. "I'd rather know what's going on." 

“It’s dangerous,” Ben says – for once, he actually agrees with his father on something. He casts a glance towards Han. “We’ll send the gang on their way, and then I’ll get you back to base, all right?”

Finn’s already climbing below deck, handing his blaster to Chewie before reaching up for it. The Wookie moans as he hands the weapon down just in case. “Rey, c’mon!” 

“I want to go with them,” she insists, jerking her head towards Han and Ben. 

“You really don’t want to be dealing with this. Just get down there and I promise I’ll take you back to Jakku.” 

“Why the hell does she want to go back to Jakku?” Han asks, sounding genuinely appalled at the idea. 

“Not now, Dad!” Ben hisses. “Please, just get below deck, all right?” he asks of Rey, practically pleading. 

There’s a metallic clang to the left; father, son and scavenger all looks towards the door. Ben takes the distraction as an opportunity to push Rey down into the hatch. He grabs her upper arms and pushes her down and back before letting go. She yelps as she falls backwards, Finn dropping his blaster to catch her as she trips back over the lip of the hatch. She glares at him from the darkness of the crawlspace, making to get back up, but Finn pulls her right back down. "Let me go!" she hisses. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Ben insists before closing the hatch on her cursing and struggling against Finn. He looks towards his father. “Now what?” 

“Now we figure out how to get them off my ass,” Han mutters, turning as the portal into the next corridor opens. 

Ben resists the urge to groan at the sight of the gang, their leader flanked by five other soldiers in armor and helmets with large, high power blasters. He recognizes the leader, Bala-Tik, immediately. The man’s easy to anger, and right now he looks just about bursting. He’s dealt with the man before, briefly and quickly and somewhat honorably. Judging by the way the other man is looking at his father, Han hadn’t done the same. Ben does a quick overview of the gang and their equipment. They’re outnumbered, significantly; in both weapons and men. “Dad-“ 

“Sh,” Han mutters, hitting his son on the forearm. “I’ve got this.” 

“Han Solo.” The leader calls out to the smuggler and his son, accented voice echoing in the metal corridor. “You’re a dead man.” 

Ben’s heart sinks. That’s not a good first statement for any conversation to start with, let alone one with a gang leader. An armed gang leader. 

“All right, not a very promising opening, but I’ve got this,” his father mutters under his breath before coughing briefly. “Bala-Tik,” Han calls back. “Welcome aboard. What’s the problem?” 

The leader quirks his head, eyes narrowing. The tight uneasiness in Ben’s gut doesn’t loosen. “The problem is that we loaned you fifty thousand for this job.” 

Ben hears a clang from below deck. He moves quickly, jerking his foot back to cover for the noise, making it seem like it was him and not the two people below him. He bites his lip, eyes darting between his father and the gang leader. 

“A small amount,” Han tries to assure the gang leader. “You’ll get double, maybe triple that. A good investment, yeah? You’ll get your cut as soon as Ben and I drop these rathtars off with King Prana.” 

“Don’t you dare drag me into this,” Ben hisses. 

Bala-Tik continues, unamused and unaffected by Han’s promises. “You also borrowed fifty thousand from Kanjiklub. They want their investment back, too.”

“You know you can't trust those little freaks! How long've we known each other? Trust me, not them!” Han calls back. 

Ben resists the urge to groan at his father’s persistent lying. “Dad-“ 

“Not now, Ben!” the older man hisses before returning his attention to the gang leader down the hallway. “You’ll get the money. You can even follow us to King Prana, see the deal yourself. And then you’ll get your money, right out of the gate. All right? I'm a man of my word, you know that! You'll get your money, I promise!" 

Ben notices that the men’s grips on their blasters have gotten tighter, inching closer to the triggers. He grips his own on his hip, already in a defensive stance. He can hear his and Han’s harsh breathing over the sound of his two passengers crawling beneath the floor panels. He desperately wants to tell them to stay still, but he can’t do so without detection. He just has to listen to them as they move through the crawlspace and hope to hell that the gang won’t hear and aim a blaster through the slots in the floor. 

Bala-Tik’s own weapon’s raised towards the family. “Your word’s dead, Solo. We stopped believing you a long time ago. We want our money back now. And so does Kanjiklub.”

“I never made a deal with Kanjiklub!” 

“Tell that to Kanjiklub.”

Smuggler, son and Wookie turn as the portal on the opposite end of the corridor opens to reveal Kanjiklub.

“Really?” Ben mutters, hand tight on his own weapon as he sees the other gang marching towards them. 

“Shut up, Ben,” Han hisses. “Tasu Leech! Good to see you!” 

The leader of Kanjiklub glares at the smuggler. “Wrong again, Solo. It’s over for you.”

Ben’s not exactly fluent in the language, but he can assume. He casts a glance towards his father. “Just what exactly did you do?” 

“No idea,” Han mumbles. “Boys! You’re both going to get what I promised! The merchandise is on the ship, King Prana’s waiting two system’s away. I’ll get it to him quickly, and get more for being quick. I just need to make the delivery, now. And I promise, I’ll get you the money. Have I ever not delivered before!”

“Yeah,” Bala-Tik says. 

“Twice!” Leech activates his weapon with a flourish, glaring at the smuggler. 

Ben watches his father’s face pale. The old man gapes like a fish, mouth opening and closing as he scrambles for an answer. “… what was the second time?” he demands of Kanjiklub. 

Ben resists the urge to smack his forehead against the nearest wall in exasperation. Chewie moans, feeling much the same. 

“Your game is old,” Bala-Tik calls. “Maybe your son will be smarter than you.” 

“Huh?” Han asks eloquently.

The gang leader jerks his head towards BB-8. “That droid. The First Order’s looking for one just like it. And two fugitives.” 

Both Ben and Han’s spines stiffen, and Chewie lets out a mournful roar. BB-8 moves to hide behind Ben’s leg. Ben can feel his heartbeat both in his stomach and his head, roaring behind his ears as he stares at the gang. 

“Hand them over, and we’ll consider not killing you, your father, and your first mate,” Bala-Tik offers. “It’s a deal you can’t refuse, Solo.”

“Doesn’t sound like it has much in it for me,” Ben calls back, trying not to let his voice waver. 

The gang leader narrows his eyes. “You live. Isn’t that enough?” 

“Not really,” Ben replies, trying to buy them some time. He can still hear Rey and Finn crawling around the crawlspace beneath his feet, and has to resist the very tempting urge to slam his foot down against the floor in an effort to scare them still. Instead, he just stares at the gang members, eyes flicking between the two gangs covering the exits. 

“Dad, we need-“ he mumbles under his breath. 

“I’m working on it,” Han mutters back. 

“I’ve had enough banter!” Bala-Tik insists. Leech echoes his agreement in the same language he’d used before. Ben looks towards Han. 

“Bantha? You want a bantha?” Han asks. 

“By the Maker, just shut up, already!” Ben mutters. 

"It was worth a shot!” 

“No, it really wasn-“

There's a harsh mechanical sound. Or rather, a lack of sound. All of the ship's ambient noise; whirring, clanking, humming - it all stops violently, everything falling silent. The two men go quiet, eyes moving upwards as the lights of the freighter begin to shut off one by one. 

Han’s eyes widen as he puts two and two together. Ben mutters, “Sithspit.” 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” Han admits, watching as the gangs look up in confusion as well. 

“You’re not the only one,” Ben replies. 

The leader of Kanjiklub shouts something, brief and sharp. Ben doesn’t have to be fluent to understand what the man said as all weapons suddenly turn on the smuggler and his son. 

The portal behind the Guavian Death Gang opens with a thunk and a deafening roar. Ben’s eyes widen as he sees the rathtar behind them, giant and ravenous. He watches in horror as it devours one of the men in the back, screams echoing down the corridor as the men fall victim to the beast’s teeth and tentacles. The rest of the gang seem divided in whether to shoot at the rathtar or to follow orders, and Ben ducks as a few blaster shots are aimed towards him and his father. 

There’s another roar near the other end of the corridor, and Ben chances a look just in time to see two of the Kanjiklub members eaten violently, boots and blasters abandoned on the floor. 

“GO!” He turns and runs down the hallway with Chewie, Han and BB-8 at his heels. A Kanjiklub member meets them on the other end, throwing a punch towards the younger man. Ben ducks. Han grabs the club member’s fist, punching him in the nose before tossing him back towards the quickly approaching rathtar. Ben winces at the man’s screams as he continues to run towards the hangar. “I told you hauling rathtars was a bad idea!” 

“I never said it was a good one!” Han yells back as they turn a corner, nearly running right into a rathtar who’s devouring at least three members of Kanjiklub in one sitting. 

“Nope!” Ben turns and runs the other way. He hears a girlish shriek towards the left, the sound echoing down the metal corridors. The shriek’s followed by a screamed “Finn!”

“Rey!” Ben exclaims and turns to the left, ignoring his father’s protest of, “Ben, don’t!” 

He nearly runs right into a rathtar, and he can see the other man in the creature’s grasp, a tentacle wrapped around the man’s leg.

“Finn!” 

“BEN!” 

“Hang on!” He aims and shoots towards the rathtar. “C’mere, you big ugly … thing!” 

It works. It works a little too well, unfortunately, and the creature roars as it turns towards Ben and starts to speed towards him – a mass of eyes, a giant mouth and several dozen sticky tentacles. Ben’s frozen in horror for a mere moment, watching helplessly as the rathtar starts to barrel towards him. 

“Shit,” Ben mutters, turning and running. He resists the urge to shoot at the creature gaining on him, not wanting to accidentally shoot the man it has in its grasp. He darts around the corner, ducking into an alcove as the rathtar comes around. He can see writhing tentacles and a panicking Finn, and startles as there’s a loud crash as the door just next to him comes down on the rathtar. Its tentacles are severed by the door, the one holding Finn writhing on the floor. He blasts at the tentacle for good measure before he rushes forward to help Finn pull the tentacle off of him, kicking at the sticky limb as it continues to writhe on the floor. He hears footsteps behind him and turns to shoot when he sees Rey running towards them. “Finn!” 

“Rey!” Finn gasps, trying to get to his feet. Ben grabs him by the collar of Poe’s jacket and hauls him up. “It had me, and the door-“

“That was lucky!” Rey insists before turning and rushing towards the hangar. 

The men follow her, Finn glancing towards Ben who continues to shoot backwards towards the corridor, just in case. “Thanks!” he says, breathless as they rush towards the Falcon.

“Don’t mention it!” Ben calls back as they round the corner and arrive at the hangar. “Where’s Dad?!” 

“Here!” 

The three turn at the sound of blaster fire, seeing the old man with Chewie and BB-8. BB-8 rolls towards the Millennium Falcon as fast as it possibly can, squealing in panic all the way. Ben watches as the droid rolls up the ramp and into the ship before looking towards his father who’s fighting off … something. He winces as he sees a blaster shot move past his father, hitting at the Falcon. Unfortunately, not the rathtar, then. 

“Go! I’ll get the door!” Han yells. Finn and Rey don’t hesitate, running towards the Millennium Falcon. Ben runs along beside them, pushing them along before jerking his head towards the ship. 

“Dad, we have to go!” 

“Yeah, hang on!” 

“NOW!” 

Han blasts at the door, closing it on the gang before rushing with Chewie to the door. Ben grabs at the Wookie’s injured arm, prompting a pained wail to come from his uncle. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Ben insists as he helps the Wookie on board before rushing to the cockpit, where Rey’s already starting the console from the copilots. Ben slides into the pilot’s seat, and jolts as there’s a bang from outside and the ship shakes. Rey’s scream next to him prompts him to look up, jerking backwards in shock when he realizes he’s looking right down a rathtar’s throat. “Fuck!” 

“Leave the hangar at lightspeed!” 

“Are you insane?!” Ben and Rey demand at the same time, looking back towards the old man who’s leaning on both of their seats. 

“Is that even possible?” Rey asks as Ben leans forward to work the controls. 

“I don’t ask that question until after I’ve done it,” Han insists. “And what’s she doing in the copilot’s?” 

“Chewie got hurt on Jakku,” Ben explains, jerking his head towards Rey. “Watch the thrust, we’re doing it.”

“What?!” Rey demands, looking at him like he’s insane. 

He supposes he probably is. It seems to be in his genes, after all.

The ship rocks as fire from the gangs’ blasters hit it. Ben grumbles as he primes the hyperdrive. “Really? After all she’s been through today?” He jerks his head towards Han. “Hang on, old man.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Han gripes but sits back in one of the passenger seats. “Hang on back there, we’re getting out of here!” 

Chewie roars affirmation. Ben can’t be bothered to turn around and check if Finn and BB-8 heard as well. He reaches forward and hits the switch, clinging onto the controls as the hyperdrive fires. They shoot out like a blaster shot, all holding on for dear life as they roar away from the cargo ship. Han watches it go as best as he can, before looking forward as they speed through the stars. 

“… that went well,” Ben mumbles, watching as the last bits of blown up rathtar disappear from the ship. He grimaces at the smears of gore left behind. Great – another thing to take care of back on base. He’s really not looking forward to maintenance, this time around.

“Could’ve gone better,” Han admits, leaning back in his seat and huffing irritably. “Now I have to figure out how to exterminate rathtars. That ship cost me a fortune.” 

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Ben turns some of the controls that aren’t needed off, nodding towards Rey who does the same on her side. He casts a glance back towards his father. “Ready to say hi to Mom?” 

The look on his father’s face tells him that he is most definitely not ready to see his wife. He chuckles before turning back to the task at hand – getting them back to the base, droid and map intact.


	4. D'Qar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the absolutely wonderful reviews! You have no idea how happy it makes me to see the emails come through from AO3. Seriously, I light up like a lightbulb and feel like I'm on cloud 9 for the rest of the day.  
> One recurring theme I noticed throughout a few of the reviews was Finn, and people being glad that I didn't sideline him. To which I reply: why the hell would I sideline Finn?! Finn's fantastic, and I love him so much! He's going to be here as much as possible, along with Poe. I won't push them to the side, I promise (or if I do, it'll be for a reason and very briefly).  
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

“I’m gonna stay on the ship."

Han grumbles the phrase after they somehow manage to hit halfway to the Resistance base without trouble. The old man’s reclined back in one of the passenger seats, Chewie settled in the other. Finn has his arms crossed, leaning against the back of Rey’s seat. The scavenger’s still sitting in the co-pilot’s, warm brown eyes darting between everyone around her. Ben notices her eyes fall on him and his father the most, his own eyes darting to her when he’s not focused on guiding them through space manually to avoid detection. 

“No,” Ben says harshly before he turns to look at his father. “You’ll take off with it in a heartbeat, and I’ll have to chase you halfway around the galaxy before I get it back. You’re coming with us.”

Han sighs as he sits up, bracing his elbows on his knees. His brow furrows and he glares openly at Ben, shaking his head in exasperation before looking down at his boots. “Kid, your mother doesn’t want to see me. Trust me on that.” His voice is low, resigned. 

Ben snorts. “You have no idea.” He offers his father a wry smile, the left side of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly. “She asks me about you every time I come back from a run. Asks me if I ran into you, if you’re all right.”

It’s stupidly sweet, how clueless his father is. Han looks up suddenly at Ben’s words, shocked. The old man does an awful job of hiding his happiness behind a frown, grey eyebrows furrowed. “Does she?” 

Ben resists the urge to roll his eyes. Hopeless, both of his parents. “Mhm.” He casts a glance towards his two passengers. They’re both watching the interaction between father and son with curious eyes. Ben opts to turn away, not wanting to explain his family’s history to people he barely knows - not like that’s stopped the public before. 

He glances at Finn out of the corner of his eye. The man’s obviously not very familiar with space travel, his fingers tight on the back of the copilot’s seat as he watches the stars fly by. Ben looks him up and down. 

The other man is holding himself straight, at attention as the ship moves through hyperspace. Trained, then. Some kind of military or, as awful as the concept is, obedience training. Definitely not Resistance, but as Jakku proved, the man can shoot damn well and hold his own in a blaster fight. Ben continues to stare as Finn looks towards him. He watches as the other man’s eyes widen marginally, fearful. Ben raises an eyebrow at him, and the man immediately looks back towards space. 

Ben frowns, before covering it quickly and standing, clapping Finn on the shoulder as he goes. “C’mon, I wanna show you something.” His hand stays on the man’s shoulder, pushing him towards the hallway. 

“Me?” Finn questions. “Why me?” His words come out of his mouth a little too far, a little too nervously. Rey looks at him over her shoulder, confused by his tone.

“You’re a good shooter,” Ben explains. “That was some impressive work on Jakku. I have something you might like, if you can help me find it.” 

Finn frowns, but pushes himself off of the back of the copilot’s seat and follows him, albeit a bit reluctantly. Ben leads him around the hallway, through the lounge and around the corner to the bunks. Once they’re out of hearing range from the cockpit, Ben turns and pushes Finn’s shoulder. The other man’s forced back against the wall, the smuggler’s left hand holding his shoulder while his right forearm is braced across Finn’s throat. 

“You’re not a Resistance man,” Ben insists. “I have no idea who the hell you are or what you were doing with Poe Dameron, but I want to know, and I want to know now.”

“Look, I didn’t-“ Finn starts frantically. Ben presses against him harder, narrowing his eyes. He can feel the other man’s neck under his arm, the muscles spasming slightly at the added pressure. 

“I don’t want an excuse, I want an explanation,” he snaps. 

“I’m a Stormtrooper,” Finn breathes. “Ex-Stormtrooper. Poe Dameron was captured by the First Order and tortured for information. I-I got him out of there, I needed a pilot, I couldn’t be there anymore, I-“ 

The man’s sounding hysterical, and so Ben moves his arm away from the man’s throat. “… ex-Stormtrooper?” he questions, frowning. “That would explain the shooting skill, then.” 

Finn nods, breathing heavy. “We didn’t get far before they hit our TIE fighter,” he continues, words nearly falling over each other in his panic. “We crash landed on Jakku. I was thrown away from the ship, and by the time I got there Poe was-“ 

“Dead,” Ben finishes, the word heavy in the air.

Finn’s eyes look towards the floor after it’s said. “I didn’t see him,” he insists. “I grabbed the jacket thinking it was him, and then the ship sank into some sand sinkhole or something. I wanted to save him, I swear, it’s my fault – I should’ve shot at the cannon, but I was talking to him, and-“

“Hey, take a breath, okay?” Ben mutters, shaking his head and removing his hand from Finn’s shoulder. “Calm down. Breathe before you pass out. I don’t want to have to carry you off.” 

“He gave me my name,” Finn barrels on. “He gave me the name Finn.” 

Ben blinks in surprise, frowning at the prospect of the man in front of him not having a name. Everyone has a name. Some stranger than others, sure, but everyone has to have some unique identifier, at least. “You didn’t have one before?” 

“We’re given numbers,” the other man explains. “Mine is – was …” There’s a moment of hesitation as he wonders what tense to use. “… it was FN-2187. And then he said that wasn’t a name, and gave me Finn.” 

“Sounds like him,” Ben mutters. He steps back, sighing and running a hand through his hair. “Okay.” He looks up at the other man. “Finn-” 

The man holds up his hands, eyes wide. “Look, I don’t want to join the Resistance, I just want to get away to somewhere the First Order won’t find me.” Again, his words are almost jumbled with how quickly he says them. 

Ben stares at him. It’s almost pitiful, really, how visibly desperate this man is to get away from his past life. He’s seen the same desperation in his father, though Han rushed to recreate his past rather than escape from it. He’s familiar with others running away, though; Maker, he’s probably too familiar with it now. Ben hesitates for a moment, just a moment, before nodding. “Okay,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure something out when we land, okay? We get the map to the General, I’ll go and drop Rey back off at Jakku, and we’ll find some place for you, all right? There are several gangs on Outer Rim planets wanting people to work for them, just labor stuff. I know people who can fake some identification for you, keep authorities from asking questions. We’ll figure it out and keep them away from you.” 

He isn’t expecting the touch. It’s not an embrace, really, and it’s far from a hug. It’s Finn’s forehead falling to Ben’s shoulder, the man’s hands grasping at his broad shoulders as Ben straightens instinctually in surprise. “Thank you,” the ex-Stormtrooper breathes. It’s quick, over before Ben can push the other man away. Finn steps back, shaking his head. “I’m sorry about Poe, I-“ 

“We’ll talk about him later,” Ben mutters. “C’mon, we’re going to be approaching base soon.” He jerks his head back towards the cockpit. They walk back, shoulder to shoulder in the small corridors. Ben smirks slightly, glancing towards Finn who’s looking down at his feet as they walk. The smuggler bumps the ex-Stormtrooper with his shoulder, prompting the younger man to look up in surprise.

“You like Rey, huh?” he asks, just to watch the man sputter. And sputter the man does. 

“I-it’s nothing-we just-“ Finn says, and Ben snorts loudly, shaking his head.

“Look, kid,” he says, stopping just before they’re in earshot of the cockpit. “I don’t know what story you spun for her, but you better clear it up quick if you want a shot. At friendship, at romance, at sex, anything.” He almost chuckles at the way Finn stares, eyes blown wide when he says the word ‘sex’. “Women hate it – and I mean hate it – when you lie to them. Especially when you lie about your identity.” 

Finn looks at him curiously, scrutinizing slightly. He raises one dark eyebrow in question. “Speaking from experience?” he asks, a bit hesitantly.

Ben smirks and pulls the neck of his shirt to the left, revealing a scar, thick and white and about 4cm long right above his collarbone. “Speaking from experience,” he repeats.

Finn looks torn between horrified and amused – mostly horrified, Ben acknowledges as his smirk broadens - and the smuggler reaches over to clap him on the shoulder and steer him back towards the cockpit.

“Did you find whatever it is?” Han grumbles. 

“No,” Ben lies easily, sliding into the pilot’s chair once again. “There’s too much shit back there I need to drop off. I’ll get it later.” He glances at the screen and flicks some of the controls. “Coming out of hyperspace. D’Qar’s coming up.” 

Finn returns to his space behind Rey, again leaning on the back of her chair. Ben glances over, and notices that his fingertips are a bit closer to her shoulder. 

He hides a smirk by pretending to be invested in the controls, spending way too much time turning the fresher lights on and off in an attempt to look busy. Rey looks slightly suspicious of the amount of times he flicks the switch, but doesn’t say anything.

“Ben,” his father mutters, eyes on his son’s hands. 

“Hm?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

-

D’Qar is, admittedly, not one of his favorite planets. If he had to pick, he much preferred Coruscant or Hosnian Prime. D’Qar is too tranquil, too woodsy. Aside from the Republic base, there’s no life aside from small woodland fauna and greenery. He’d rather slip between sweaty bodies than towering trees, get lost in the hum of a city than the quiet of a forest. 

He likes life around him. Uncle Luke had told him about the Force, tried to teach it and all it held to him despite his not having powers. He’s not entirely sure he believes in it, but it’s a pretty concept; being surrounded by millions of people, and through them, being surrounded by one, all encompassing thing. He was fascinated when he was little, thinking that must be why he feels so awe-struck in cities – now he knows better, knows that he just likes crowds and lights and the girls who giggle at him from club entrances. 

There are no crowds on D’Qar, no lights, and the only pretty girls on base don’t want anything to do with him (he can’t exactly blame them, not with his reputation and his mother as their superior). There is life, but barely, and it’s not nearly enough for him. It’s too green, and too wet, and too … well, boring. 

Rey seems to have another opinion. 

They’ve just dropped out of hyperspace, his hands a flurry of motion over the controls as he gets them ready to land. He’ll hail the base in a few moments, tell them to lower the shields and let them touch down. But for now it’s a matter of engines and drives, turning this one off and this one on and the like. 

He’s looking at the console instead of his temporary co-pilot, and he’s too focused on landing them somewhat safely that he completely misses her small, soft noise of disbelief. It’s not until his father smacks him upside the head that he looks up, and then he follows his father’s finger to where Rey’s staring at the small planet of green and blue in awe. 

“Ever been to D’Qar?” Ben asks conversationally as they approach the side where the base is on. 

“I’ve never been off of Jakku,” she breathes, and he glances over at her. She doesn’t take her eyes off of the green planet for several moments, but when she does, she looks at him. He holds her gaze for a moment, offering her a small smile before reaching for the comm. 

“Resistance, this is the Millennium Falcon requesting permission to land,” he says, loud and clear into the small speaker. 

There’s a moment of silence, and then a crackle before a man’s voice says, “Clear for landing, Falcon. Hangar B17. Welcome home, Ben.” 

“Tell the General there are two –“ He glances towards Han. “… three passengers aboard.” 

“Yes, captain.” 

He nods and severs the link, pulling down to skim across the tree tops. Rey’s watching, her duties as copilot abandoned in her awe of the green and blue. 

“I never knew there was this much green in the whole galaxy.” 

It’s such a soft statement, sweet in its innocence. Ben glances towards her again, a quick look before he has to be locating the designated hangar. She’s staring out the window in awe, pretty lips parted slightly as she takes in the greenery. 

“Well, I’ll give you a tour before I take you back to Jakku,” Ben murmurs. “If you’d like, I mean, we can just go if you-“ 

“Yes,” she breathes, looking over at him. And then there’s a moment of hesitation. “… but I can’t,” she says the next moment.

He looks towards her and nearly downs a tree, the Falcon skimming too low. 

“Ben!” Han scolds, grabbing his son’s shoulder. 

“On it, on it!” Ben snaps back, regaining the controls and guiding them into the hangar. He can see a small crowd gathered as he lands. It’s a bit bumpy, but then again he’s never been exactly the best at landing. Flying, he’s good at. Landing? Not so much.

He flicks the ship off, turning it on safe power before looking towards BB-8 who’d rolled in from wherever it was securing itself during the flight. “You ready?” 

The droid whines softly, head lowering. 

“I know you miss Poe,” Ben mutters as he stands and walks over to the droid. “But you’re important yourself, okay? Let’s get what Poe gave you to the General.” 

The droid beeps an agreement, and Ben looks towards Rey and Finn. “All right, let’s go.” 

His father makes no move to get up from the passenger seat. “I’ll just stay here.” 

“Oh, no,” Ben growls, moving to grab his father’s arm. But Chewie gets there before him and tugs Han up, big hands forcing the smuggler towards the door. 

“Okay, okay! I’m going!” Han hisses, stumbling forward away from his best friend. “Calm down, I’m going, okay?” 

Ben snorts as he walks by, BB-8 following him with Rey and Finn behind. “I’ll warn Mom, all right?” 

“What, she needs to be warned?” 

“About you? Definitely,” Ben teases as the ramp lowers. He walks down, BB-8 by his side as he steps into the hangar. 

There are maybe a dozen people waiting for their arrival. He knows most of them, respects even fewer, but his eyes fall on his mother almost immediately. Despite her height, she’s easily the most powerful presence in the room. 

He walks over to her with a slight swagger in his step, all show like his father. He smirks slightly as he opens his arms to her. “Mom.”

She doesn’t walk into them. Instead, she looks exasperated. She looks him up and down, arms crossed over her chest. “Ben Solo.” 

He wants to wince at her tone, but attempts to keep his face straight as he towers over her. His eyebrow twitches with the effort. He can vaguely hear some of their audience snickering softly at his mother’s tone and his reaction to it. 

“Over two months without a single word, and then all of a sudden you message us saying that Poe Dameron is dead, and that you have BB-8, and the map?” she demands. 

“… um, yes?” he asks, one hand moving to the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

It’s then that his mother breaks, sighing softly as her arms fall to her sides. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” she asks desperately.

“No, Mom,” he mutters. “I’m fine, really. Can’t say the same for the Falcon, but…” 

She rolls her eyes. “You are so much like your father,” she mumbles, reaching forward to hug him. He folds her into his arms, nearly able to bend over her entirely as he hugs her. 

“Um, yeah, about that…” he mutters. She immediately stiffens in his arms, and he pulls away. 

“Wemight’vepickedhimuponthewayhere.” 

She stares up at him, eyes wide. “What?” 

“Leia.” 

Ben hears his father’s voice over his shoulder, and before his mother can react, he grabs her shoulders. “Mom, BB-8 has a map to Uncle Luke, and I have two passengers who need to eat and maybe use a fresher.” He looks towards Rey and Finn. Neither of them look too banged up, so a visit to the med bay won’t be needed. They do look dirty, though, and he’s sure he does as well considering their little side trip to Jakku. He can feel the sand, gritty on his skin, where his clothes didn’t exactly guard him from the grains. He can feel some in his hair when he runs his hand through it, fingertips finding sand on his scalp. 

His mother’s eyes follow his, and then continue to dart between the droid, Rey, and Finn. If she’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. “Leave BB-8 with me,” she orders. “You take care of your passengers. As soon as I deal with this,” she jerks her head towards her husband, “I’ll have someone get some clothes for them. I’d like to speak to them, as well.” Her eyes linger on Finn, who’s shuffling uncomfortably in Poe’s jacket. “Especially-“ 

“Finn,” Ben adds hurriedly to keep the man’s cover. “And he’ll speak with you about Poe. He’s the one who rescued him.” 

“Leia-“ Han starts.

“Don’t,” she scolds, not even looking at Han. She nods at Ben. “Go. I’ll have someone fetch you three when we have a plan.” 

Ben drops a kiss to her cheek before taking a giant sidestep out of the way, removing the last barrier between his father and his mother. He walks to Finn and Rey, casting nervous glances at his parents. He can’t hear much of their conversation, regrettably. For once, they’re speaking quietly to each other. He looks at them for a moment more, seeing their hands brush out of the corner of his eye. 

It’s something, at least. 

Chewie’s standing off to the side, and he walks over to clap his uncle on the shoulder. “Think you can get started on repairing her?” he questions. “I’ll be back in a few hours, I just need to deal with them first.” He jerks his thumb back towards Rey and Finn, who are standing and watching. Finn’s shuffling awkwardly, whereas Rey looks torn between raising her chin and hunching in on herself. Chewie roars his agreement, before roaring again and tilting his head. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get the sand off before I get on the ship again. Really, with all the shit we have in the cargo hold, and you’re worried about getting sand in it?” Ben asks, but allows himself an amused smirk. “Yeah, okay, fine.” 

Chewie growls again, and Ben chuckles before walking back to where Rey and Finn are waiting. Finn visibly relaxes at his presence. “What did she say?” he demands. 

“She said she’ll call us when she needs us. She wants to talk to you about Poe, too,” He explains as he continues walking. They follow, Rey casting glances back towards the ship occasionally. “C’mon,” Ben mutters, jerking his head towards the exit of the hangar. “Let’s get you some food.” 

-

“What is this?” 

It’s said around a mouthful of juice and flesh, both bright purple in color. Ben hides his smile behind his drink glass, finishing his sip and swallowing before answering Rey who’s staring at the fruit she’d just bitten into like it’s insulted her. He'd figured out pretty soon that Rey eats like an animal, and he has to resist the urge to draw her attention to the purple juice that's currently dripping down her chin as she examines the fruit. Her fingers are stained purple. He doesn't have the heart to tell her that people usually don't eat the fruit with their hands, but instead with a fork and knife to avoid the mess she's currently making. 

“It’s a pear, of some sort,” he explains. “Don’t ask me what kind, I can’t tell you.” 

She finishes her bite, frowning at the fruit and it's deep pink pit. "... it's sweet," she says. "But bitter, afterwards?"

“It’s an acquired taste,” he admits, smirking slightly. Finn hasn’t touched a bit of his food, instead picking at the salad he’d gotten with his fork. Poe’s jacket resting on his knees under the table, hidden from view of passerby. Ben had prompted him to take it off; too many questions, too many curious and sad eyes. He’s not sure if the news has broken base-wide, but he can imagine it has and he can’t even fathom its effect on the Resistance. He’d gotten a few looks in the corridor, though he couldn’t tell whether they were mournful or simply questioning as he led his two passengers through the hallways. 

Ben’s eyes move back to Rey as she moves to take a second bite of the fruit. He frowns, reaching over to grab her wrist as she raises the fruit to her lips. “Hey, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.” 

She stares at him like he’s just told her to eat Chewie instead. She wrenches her wrist from his grip, and looks down at the fruit she't eaten, like it's some sort of challenge. The men watch her as she takes another small bite, this time not grimacing as much at the taste but somehow managing to get even more juice on her face. Ben sighs softly, shaking his head and passing a napkin towards her before taking a bite of the sandwich he’d made. She, thankfully, takes the hint, freckled cheeks turning slightly pink as she takes the napkin and wipes her lips and chin free of the purple juice. 

“Master Ben!” 

Oh, Maker. 

There isn’t enough room with all three of their trays to bang his head on the table, even though he really really wants to at the sound of the droid’s voice. “Hey, 3PO,” he grumbles as he hears the tell-tale sound of metallic feet on the mess hall floor. 

“What a pleasure to see you again!” the droid insists. “It has been months since I’ve seen you! I’m quite surprised you recognized me with my new arm. Not to worry, it will be repainted my regular gold soon!” 

“I wasn’t worried,” Ben mutters as he sets his sandwich down. With the droid next to him, he won’t be eating for a while. “Do you need to tell me something?” 

“Oh, yes! The princess-I mean, General, has informed me that you are to join her in the command center when you are finished.”

He glances towards Rey, who’s staring at the golden droid with wide brown eyes, her fruit halfway to her lips. Finn just looks downright confused, brow furrowed as he watches the droid gesticulate awkwardly in his excitement at Ben's arrival. 

“All right, we’ll be there in a few minutes,” Ben assures C-3PO. "I just need to finish this, and they need to finish their food, and then we'll be right there, okay?"

“Wonderful, Master Ben! I will inform the General.” 

“You do that,” Ben replies quickly, hoping it’ll send the droid on its way sooner. 

No such luck. “Oh, I have more wonderful news! Did you know that your father, Han Solo, and your mother, the General-“

Nope. Ben stands with his tray. “C’mon,” he mutters, grabbing Finn’s tray as well and walking to the waste station. He dumps their food into the waste chute before walking back. He notices that Rey’s looking forlornly at her own food, still holding the fruit as C-3PO tries to talk louder so Ben can hear him as he returns to the table. “Hey,” he says quietly, looking down at her and ignoring his grandfather's droid entirely. “You can take as much as you want back with you, all right?” He leans forward, just a bit, so that she can hear him over the droid's rambling. “But unless you want your ear talked off, I suggest we get moving.” 

She looks between him and her tray before grabbing two sweet rolls, clutching them with the purple pear, sticky purple juice slipping between her fingers. Ben takes this as permission to take her tray, and dumps that as well before coming back. He takes Poe’s jacket from Finn, tucking it under his arm inconspicuously before jerking his head towards the door. “Let’s go.” 

“Master Ben-!” 

“Meet us there, 3PO!” Ben calls over his shoulder as he starts to walk, casting a glance towards Rey who’s still clutching her food like it’s a lifeline. Finn’s staring at her as well, and some of the members of the Resistance give her strange looks as they continue to walk down the hallway. Ben can see that the pear juice is slipping between her fingers, trailing down her hand and hitting her arm wrap, dying it a dark purple. She clutches her food tighter every time someone unfamiliar gets closer, to the point of there being finger marks in the surface of the bread. 

Ben’s heart hurts slightly as he thinks he realizes why, and he casts a glance towards Finn who looks like he’s had the realization as well. The portions, the eating of the fruit, the taking of the food. Ben bumps his hip against hers, startling her. She nearly drops her handful of food, staring up at him with wide eyes. 

“I promise I’ll get you more,” he assures her, leaning towards her as they walk down the hallway towards the command center.

There’s a moment of silence on her end as she looks down at the food in her hands, and then back up at him. “You promise?” 

Her tone’s a lot harsher than he would’ve expected it to be. He glances down towards her and finds her glaring at him, looking very much like a petulant child who wants to be promised more playtime before bed. He raises one dark eyebrow at her, and smiles a bit.

“I promise,” he echoes before he picks up his pace towards the command center. 

\- 

The map's already projected when he gets there, bright and blue and totally unfamiliar in its displayed system. He frowns as he steps down into the command center, walking towards where his mother’s standing with her knuckles to her lips and Han beside her. BB-8 looks anything but happy, his head bowed and his beeps and bloops sounding forlorn. Ben pats his head gently as he goes to stand by his mother, Resistance majors and pilots parting for him so that he can join her.

“What’s going on?” he asks, looking between the projection and the General for any sort of clue. She doesn’t look distressed, per say, but she doesn’t look happy, either. She looks more disappointed than anything else, frustrated with herself. 

Her hand falls from her mouth and she gestures to the map irritatedly. “It’s just a piece,” she mutters. “I can’t find him with this. I can’t believe I thought I could.” She snorts. "It wouldn't be simple for us, would it?"

Ben glances to the side and notices his father’s hand on his mother’s shoulder, large and comforting. He looks towards Han, who’s staring at the map as well, grey eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he analyzes it. 

“I’ve traveled far, but apparently not far enough,” Han admits. “I’ve never seen this system. Or maybe I have and I just don't recognize it."

“It’s not even a system, it’s more like an eight of a system,” Ben says, leaning against a control console as he stares up at the map. He glances at the planets, the stars and the line connecting them to his uncle. He casts a look towards Rey and Finn. Both are staring at the map, but when he looks for recognition he finds none. They have no idea either. He watches the rotating map reflect in their eyes for another half a moment before looking towards his mother. “What do we do?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” she admits, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t know who would have the other pieces. It doesn’t match any of the systems on our record.” 

“Maz," Han says. 

It’s so short, so quiet that they almost miss it. Leia turns to look up at her husband, frowning in confusion. “Maz?” 

“Maz Kanata,” Han clarifies. “She’ll either have the information, or know someone who does." 

“On Takodana?” Leia asks, frowning. “That Maz?” 

“Is there any other?” Han questions wryly, shrugging. "We ask her, and she can probably tell us where to go from there. She owes me a favor, anyway."

Knowing his father, Ben highly doubts that she does, but anything's worth a shot at this point. “I can stop there on my way back from dropping Rey off on Jakku,” Ben offers. “And then go from there to wherever it leads me. It'll be less obvious than sending a pilot and a X-wing out. I've done enough business in enough places to pass it off as a job." 

His mother glances between her husband and her son. “And you?” she asks of Han, her tone slightly accusatory. “Are you going to leave with him?” 

“No,” he mumbles. “I’m staying here. For the time being. I need a new ship, anyway. The rathtars are still loose on the other one."

Ben smirks as his mother turns to stare wide-eyed at Han. "Rathtars?!" she demands. 

Han's face is frozen in fear, paralyzed by the realization that he just messed up majorly, and Ben can hear Finn snickering behind him as Han tries to verbally back away slowly. "It was a simple delivering job, I swear." He holds up his hands in defense as Leia turns on him, narrowing her eyes and glaring up at her husband. 

"A simple delivering job. With rathtars," his mother counters, crossing her arms over her chest. "And how'd that go?" 

"Not well, considering I need a new ship." 

Ben's fighting the urge to laugh out loud as he watches his small mother glare up at his much taller father. "We'll talk about this later," she mutters, before turning to Ben. "How soon can you leave?" 

"I'll have to ask Chewie what the damages to the Falcon are, but they're not entirely crucial. Tomorrow evening, at the latest," Ben assures her. "I'll work on it in the meantime, try to get out of here faster." 

His mother seems pleased by the answer, and nods at him before looking towards Finn. "Finn," she says, looking at him questioningly. Ben glances towards the other man, watching the interaction with bated breath and hoping to hell that it won't blow the man's cover story to Rey. He looks down at the young woman, who's now a roll short. Her eyes are, thankfully, focused on the next roll that she's picking apart into small pieces and popping into her mouth, savoring every bite. 

"Yes, ma'am." The other man's immediately at attention, stiff-backed and wide-eyed as he stares at the General. 

"I hear you have something to tell me about Poe Dameron?" she asks, voice softening at the name of the pilot. Ben looks down, and vaguely hears Finn repeat, "Yes, ma'am," albeit at a lower tone than before. He looks up and watches as his mother gestures towards one of the more private rooms off of the command center. 

"Mind telling me what happened?" she asks, raising one grey eyebrow at him. 

"Not at all, ma'am," Finn says, already stepping forward to follow her. Ben discreetly passes the pilot's jacket to the ex-Stormtrooper as he passes, reaching up to squeeze Finn's shoulder in reassurance. Finn glances back at him, eyes questioning. 

"Just tell her everything you can. Everything," Ben mutters, and Finn hesitates. There's half a heartbeat before he nods and follows the General, clutching Poe's jacket in his hands. The smuggler watches as the door closes behind them. The weight in his chest doesn't ease, and he knows it probably won't until Finn emerges from the room. 

He looks down towards Rey. Her food's gone, but she seems to be in the process of licking the fruit juice from her fingers. She has her pointer finger in her mouth, and when she notices that he's looking at her, releases it with a soft 'pop'. The juice around and between her fingers is now gone, probably cleaned up by her eager tongue, he thinks. 

Ben stares at her, before he smirks. "I think we might be able to get the right converter this time," he jokes. "Without stealing it." 

Her cheeks flush pink, and she scowls at him. It would be intimidating, except for the fact that her lips are bright purple from the pear. Ben just snorts and starts to walk towards the hangar, not even looking back to see if she's following since he knows that she is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, then, that was a bit easier than TFA, wasn't it? No pesky Kylo Ren and his horrible motives for the map. And it's not the same exact plot as A New Hope, so there's that.  
> Rey's a little cutie who isn't used to the concept of being able to eat food for the taste and not just the sustenance. I love writing scenes with Rey eating food - watching her eat at Maz's in the movie was just precious.  
> I know I haven't written much in detail with Rey, but don't worry, that's definitely coming (it is a Reylo story, after all!) I just needed to get a few things out of the way first.  
> Thanks for reading, and if you have time, please drop a review!


	5. D'Qar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are really too kind with your reviews. Thanks so much for sticking with this while I try to juggle school and some other projects! I'm having so much fun writing Ben, and i hope I do everyone else justice as well. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter!

Ben curses his father’s name - again - as he leans across the window of the cockpit, scrubbing at the gore that’s still stuck to the panes. He curses plenty of other things too, like the damn rathtars and their biology, and his ship for having nooks and crannies that are incredibly hard to clean. He scrubs a bit too hard and his hand slips, knocking his knuckles right into the metal. “Kriffing hell!” Ben pulls his hand back, hissing in pain as he examines his skin for any scrapes or blood. 

Chewie roars in laughter from down below, working with Rey on the few pieces that the scavengers had pulled from the underside of the ship. She stands beside the Wookie and hands him the tools that he asks for, the pile of salvaged parts next to her on a tooltable. 

“Laugh it up, furball!” Ben yells down, leaning over the side to glare at his uncle. “Crack up one more time and you’re doing the cleaning – I don’t give a damn if the smell gets in your fur or not,” he snaps, pushing his wet hair back from his forehead with a huff. 

Chewie just snorts and takes the wrench Rey offers him. The girl’s smirking, looking up at Ben with her arms crossed over her chest. Ben resists the urge to glare at her, too. 

“You know, a pressure washer might do the trick,” she offers, jerking her head towards the hose designed for rinsing mud and dirt off of the X-wings. 

“And risk knocking another few parts off from the force? No thanks, kid, I’ll do it myself,” Ben mutters, pushing himself back up to the top again. The mess had come off of the glass fairly easily, but now he has to deal with the metal and the cracks. Though it wouldn’t harm the ship, necessarily, he feels slightly gross thinking about flying with rathtar guts still on his father’s prized possession. He picks up the rag he’d been using before grimacing and looking down. “Is there another one of these down there? This one needs to be incinerated, or something.” He lets it go over the side of the ship, the fabric landing on the hangar floor with a wet ‘plop’. 

Rey walks around to the steps, grabbing a new rag from the pile the cleaning crew had given them. “Here.” She walks up, offering it to him, nose crinkling in disgust when she sees his damp shirt, stained slightly from the cleaning process. He’d abandoned his vest on the ground, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows in an attempt to keep them clean. There’s no such luck – he still managed to get rathtar residue on his hands and his clothes. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, pushing his hair back again. He huffs when it falls back in his face. 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Sure, sweetheart,” he mutters before standing and passing her on the stairs, making way to where he’d left his vest below.

She scoffs softly, leaning against the side of the stairs as he rummages through the few pockets in the dark fabric. He emerges victorious, pulling a clip out from one of the left chest pockets. Ben puts the clip in his mouth, holding it in between his teeth as he pulls his hair back from his face. He can feel her watching him as he pins the front section of his hair back, tossing his vest back to the ground before ascending the stairs again. “Don’t say anything,” he growls as he grabs the rag and dips it in the bucket of cleansing solution. 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she replies, smiling at him as he gets back onto his knees on top of the cockpit. If she thinks he’s ridiculous for pinning his hair back, she doesn’t show it, smile soft and somewhat sweet towards him. 

He can’t fathom why, not when he’s covered in dirty water and rathtar goo. He scrubs harder at the tell-tale marks, grimacing as his fingers cramp with the effort. “Damn,” he mutters, pulling his hand back to massage his knuckles. “This stuff’s stuck on there.”

“Let me,” she offers, walking to stand next to him. 

He shakes his head. “No, don’t bother, I don’t want you dealing with this. It’s nasty.” 

She settles down beside him, reaching for one of the used rags and scooting to the side to scrub at a particularly stubborn smear. “You say that like I haven’t done worse,” she says, smirking slightly at him. 

He stares at her for a moment, watching her arms as they work against the rathtar gore. Her hands are calloused, nails dirty and gritty from sand and grease. He watches as she works on a spot he’d been trying to get for hours, blinking as she pulls the rag away. The space beneath it isn’t spotless, by far, but it’s a good deal better than it had been when he was working on it. 

“You had to clean a lot on Jakku?” he asks as she starts to work on a particularly stubborn bit stuck between the pane and its metal encasing. 

“Sand and dust out from parts, yes,” she replies, using what little she has of her nails to get the rest of the gunk out. “Cleaner parts got more portions.” 

He’s not exactly sure how to respond to that, so he just continues cleaning instead. It’s not until Chewie roars, needing his new assistant, that Ben looks up towards her. 

“Go,” he tells her, jerking his head towards his uncle. “I’ve got this.” 

She looks hesitant for a moment, before standing and walking towards the stairs. His eyes widen as she walks towards a pane he knows he just cleaned, water and slick cleansing solution still drying on top of it. 

“Rey, don’t-“ He scrambles to his feet, and she turns to look at him questioningly. Unfortunately, in her turning, her foot moves back and slips against the pane. He has just a split second to grab her wrist and tug her against him, a potentially fatal crisis averted as she stumbles into him, his hand going to her waist to keep her from falling. He steps back against the top of the cockpit, trying to keep both her weight and his from crashing down on top of the Falcon. Chewie roars to ask if they’re all right, but Ben pays his uncle no mind as he grips the scavenger, just trying to keep them upright. 

“I just cleaned there,” he explains breathlessly, letting his hands fall from her arm and waist as she pushes herself off of his damp shirt, grimacing. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I smell, sorry.” 

“No, you’re wet,” she mutters with a snort. 

“That, too,” he replies. At Chewie’s worried roar, he calls down, “We’re fine, just slipped, we’re good!” He looks down at the grime that he has yet to clean, and huffs. “This is going to take a while.” 

“Pressure washer?” she offers again.

He glances towards the hose, before looking back towards her. “… worth a shot.”

-

The pressure washer, as it turns out, wasn’t as bad idea as he thought it would be. Sure, they lost a few screws and a loose part or two (or seven), but he sees it as just confirming that the part needed to be replaced. He hand washes the top of the cockpit as best as he can, seeing as it was the most effected by the rathtar, and then uses the washer to get in between the cracks that even Rey’s small fingers can’t get. She stands and watches, finished with helping Chewie, as he blasts the rest of the metal. He comes down satisfied, grinning brightly. “Nice thinking,” he tells her, walking to put the pressure washer back where it belongs. 

She follows him. “Are you finished?” 

“For now, yeah,” he replies, wiping his hands on the back of his pants. “Chewie!” 

The Wookie roars back in question, lifting his welders goggles to look at his ‘nephew’.

“I’m going to hit the fresher, I’ll be back,” Ben calls. The Wookie growls an affirmative and pulls his goggles back down, going back to work on securing a panel that had been dented on the way out of Jakku. 

Ben turns and starts walking towards the exit to the hangar. He hears her soft footsteps behind him, and turns to see her following him. “What, you want to join?” he asks, smirking at her as he turns the corner towards the main hallways. 

She scowls at him. He can’t say he wasn’t expecting it. “No,” she says, and he just chuckles, turning back to look ahead. 

He’s glad he does, because he nearly runs right into a golden droid. He stumbles back a little bit, Rey stepping out of the fallzone behind him as Ben stares at C-3PO. “Not now…” he groans. 

“Master Ben!” The droid moves his arms in surprise. “I was told by the General to give you a message!” 

“What is it, 3PO?” Ben demands. “Because I’ve just cleaned the Falcon, and I’d really like to go to my fresher to clean the rathtar guts off of me.” 

He hears Rey snort behind him. 

“Mister Finn is still speaking to the General about his employment on the Star Killer Base. She has advised me to tell you that fresh clothes have been placed in your rooms for both of your passengers, and to see her in the command center when you have finished.” The droid tilts his head. “I do not believe I know your other passenger’s name?” 

Ben curses under his breath. Leave it to the droid to fuck things up for Finn. He casts a glance towards Rey, who’s looking at him, wide-eyed and lips parted. “Finn-“ she starts. 

“Rey,” Ben says, prompting her gaze to snap towards him. “My other passenger’s name is Rey. Tell Mom – tell the General - we’ll be there in a bit, okay?” he says, reaching back and grabbing Rey’s hand. He pulls her around the droid towards his rooms, the ones next to his parents'.

She doesn’t even wrench her hand back from his. Instead, she grips his fingers to the point of bones grinding painfully, and he drops her hand with a hiss. “What?!” 

“Finn was employed with the First Order?” she demands, eyes narrowed. 

“I’ll tell you when we get back to my room, all right?” he hisses. “Not here.”

“You knew!” Her loud accusation draws some attention, a few of the Resistance workers stopping to stare at the girl who very clearly doesn’t belong and the General’s son standing together.

Ben huffs. “Yeah, I knew. I don’t know everyone on the base by name, but I know faces and I knew he wasn’t one of them.” 

“You lied to me!” she snaps. 

“No, correction - he lied to you, I just helped him keep it up,” Ben supplies, grabbing her wrist again and tugging her towards his rooms. “I’ll explain it when we get to my room.” 

This time she does wrench herself from his grip, glaring openly. “I’m not going with you.” 

He throws his hands up, turning and staring at her, exasperated. “Fine,” he snaps. “Go find Finn, chew him out, yell at him, punch him in the face for all I care. But I’m tired, and I’m dirty, and I smell like dead rathtar, so I’m going to go take a shower!” 

With that he turns back and stomps towards his rooms. He doesn’t even bother waiting or looking back to see if she’d followed him through the base. He punches his code in when he gets to his door, and walks through it into his room. He’s halfway across the living area before he hears the door halt in its closing, having sensed someone in between the frame and the panel. Ben turns, seeing her slip through the small space. 

She’s still glaring at him as she says, “I don’t know how to get to the command center from here.” 

He stares, before reaching up and pulling the clip from his hair. He clamps it to his belt as he says, “You go out, you make a left. Follow the main hallway all the way down, and then it’ll branch off into two. You take the right one, and look for the stairs that lead down. Take them and you’ll be in the command center.” He unlatches his belt from his waist, reaching down to unbuckle his holster from where it’s strapped to his thigh. 

She makes no move to leave, instead shifting slightly. “You said you were going to take a shower.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, tossing his belt and blaster on one of the chairs. “But if you want to go, then ladies first.” He runs his right hand through his hair as he uses the left one to point towards the fresher. “Through that door. Towels are on the rack.” 

He settles himself into a chair, working on getting his boots off as she moves towards the fresher. She jumps slightly as the door slides open suddenly, looking back towards him. 

Ben raises an eyebrow, left boot in his hands as he tugs it off. “Go on, you can go first,” he insists, waving her into the fresher. He watches as she steps inside, the door closing behind her. 

It takes a good amount of tugging to get the right boot off, and he grimaces as he dumps some sand out of it onto the floor. The boot falls with a heavy ‘clunk’, and he thumbs at the grime coating the leather on his left boot. That’ll take some washing to get out, definitely. He sighs as he drops the left one to the floor as well, standing to shed his shirt when he realizes that the fresher’s suspiciously quiet. No rushing water, from either the shower or the bath, or even the sink. “Rey?” he calls, staring at the pane of metal separating them. 

There’s no response from the other room. 

“Shit,” he mutters, walking over and knocking on the door. “Rey?” 

Again, no response. 

He jams his fist against button beside the frame, the metal sliding away. He’s half a step inside the fresher when he stops in his tracks. 

“Hey!” 

Rey grabs one of the towels from the rack and wraps it around herself hurriedly, though not very well. He stares openly, blinking as he takes in the sight of her bare skin. He can see where the sun hasn’t hit her in years, probably, and what parts of her skin's been exposed to the dust and dirt and sun, significantly darker than the rest. His eyes dart to where her clothes are in a pile on the floor, and he opens his mouth to start to apologize. “Sorry, I-“

Apparently honed reflexes go right out the window when a barely-clothed pretty girl is involved, because a bottle of some sort hits him in the shoulder, hard, and falls to the floor with a crash. “Ow, kriffing hell, what was that for?!” he demands, hand flying to his shoulder before he glares at her. “I was only seeing if you were okay!” 

At this, she looks only slightly less pissed than she had before, still glaring at him.

“Fine. Sorry, sorry,” he insists, holding his hands up in defense and walking out backwards. He nearly stumbles over where the tile becomes hardwood. “I’ll just – go…” 

He closes the door behind him, shaking his head as he walks back into the living area. Ben settles into one of the chairs by the window, groaning softly. He moves so that he’s sitting sideways, long legs dangling off of one leg and back braced against the other. He’s not a small man, so he has to fold in on himself in order to fit. His thumb goes to his mouth, front teeth worrying at the nail as he waits for the sound of the shower to start. 

It doesn’t. 

He waits a bit longer, frowning when the sound of water against glass never comes. 

He does, however, hear the door open, and the padding of small feet against wood. He keeps his face carefully composed as Rey comes to stand beside him, still wrapped in the towel – albeit it covers a good deal more now, the fabric brushing the tops of her knees and her hands holding it tightly shut.

She’s going to let loose on him, he just knows. And she has every right to, in his opinion. He saw things he wasn’t supposed to see, and even though it wasn't much it was still entirely his fault, and he’s opening his mouth to say so-

“I can’t turn it on,” she says quietly. 

His mouth snaps shut with an audible ‘click’, and he moves so that he’s sitting up. Maker, she’s small, his head coming to her collarbone when she’s standing. She looks more delicate than he’s ever seen her, wrapped in the worn blue towel. It’s the first color he’s seen on her, and he has to admit that he likes it. She’s staring at him defiantly, shifting awkwardly. Her arms are wrapped around herself tightly, like if she lets go the towel will fall despite her deathgrip on it. He notices that her hair falls to her shoulders, now, let out of its three buns. 

“Yeah,” he says softly, standing. “Yeah, okay.” He walks towards the fresher, and he can hear her walking behind him. He rolls his sleeves up so they don’t completely soaked, and looks towards her. She’s staring at him expectantly, so he bypasses the idea of asking her whether she wants a bath or a shower and just heads towards the shower. 

He turns it on, and jerks towards her when he hears a thud off to the side. She’s standing against the glass of the shower, and has apparently knocked her shoulder against it, because she’s clutching her shoulder while simultaneously looking surprised and in pain. “…. What just happened?” he asks in concern. 

“I-… it’s loud,” she admits, and his expression softens when he realizes that she’s probably never heard rushing water before, let alone against glass. She probably jumped in surprise and hit her shoulder against the wall. 

“Yeah,” he replies simply, holding his hand out beneath the spray to make sure it neither scalds her nor freezes her when she steps in. “You change the temperature using these buttons,” he explains, pressing them for demonstration. “This one makes it colder, this one makes it hotter, okay?”

She stares. “There can be different temperatures?” she asks. 

“Just find one you like,” he replies, moving out of the way of the spray. “Some people like hot showers, some like cold. Adjust it until you like it.” 

Her deathgrip on the towel hasn’t loosened at all, he notices as he turns back to her. He glances towards the shelves in the shower. “… I think you threw my shampoo at me, earlier, but there’s soap in there,” he explains, walking back to the bottle and picking it up before offering it to her. “Here. Use whatever you’d like, I don’t care.” 

She takes the bottle hesitantly, eyeing it before holding it to her chest. 

“If you need me, I’m just on the other side, all right?” Ben offers. “Just … yell, or poke your head out, or something.” He waves his hand as he turns and goes back out. If she says anything, he misses it over the sound of the door closing and the roar of the water. 

“Kriffing hell,” he manages, running his hand through his hair and collapsing onto his bed. He grimaces when he feels his damp shirt, and stands again to keep his bed from smelling like rathtar and harsh cleaning solution. 

“Ben?” 

He turns, nearly tripping over his own feet when he hears her voice from the fresher. The door’s open, and she’s standing in the middle of the frame. She’s somewhat wet, her hair streaked with water in some places and her shoulders dappled with droplets. He blinks at her, frowning. 

“What’s up?” he asks, walking over. 

“I just …” She huffs, and he nearly snorts at the sound that he’s heard come from himself several times. 

He smirks, bracing one of his arms on the frame, nearly crowding her. To his surprise, she doesn’t take a step back, instead just staring up at him and clutching the towel around her. “Are you going to ask me to join you?” he asks, voice low. 

“No,” she replies immediately, and he allows himself a small moment of victory when he notices that her cheeks are tinged slightly pink. “I just … I don’t know, can you stay in the room?” 

He snorts at her response before her tone of voice really registers. It’s soft, and somewhat scared, and he suddenly realizes that this is the most amount of water that she’s probably seen and this is all so novel and new. It’s bound to be somewhat frightening, and more than a little overwhelming. His expression softens, and he finds himself nodding. She immediately looks relieved, the tension in her shoulders loosening.

“Yeah,” he replies quietly. “Yeah, c’mon, inside,” he says, putting his hand on her clothed hip and pushing her back into the room. He thanks the Maker that the glass is frosted, so that he won’t be able to see her clearly. She lets him push her gently towards the shower. 

“I’m going to turn around so you can get in, all right?” he asks, and she nods. He turns away from her, eyes steadily avoiding the mirror. He hears the towel hit the floor, and the door to the shower slide shut. Once he’s positive she’s in, he turns back around and lets himself lean against the counter. He can see her blurry form through the glass, skinny and small. It still feels wrong to look at her, even though he can barely see her, so he keeps his eyes on the floor instead. 

“What’s this?” she asks over the roar of the water, and he looks up. He can see her holding some sort of bottle in her hand, but he can’t tell which bottle. 

“I can’t see it,” he calls back, pushing himself off of the sink and walking over to her. The door slides open, and her small, wet hand offers a bottle to him. He can see the green liquid inside, and smirks. 

“That’s what you threw at me,” he explains. “It makes your hair clean.” 

“Oh.” 

“Didn’t exactly have that on Jakku, did you?” he questions as she pulls her hand back. He closes the door for her before walking back to the counter and hopping up onto it. 

Her resulting silence is answer enough. He can smell his shampoo as soon as the water hits it, the steam carrying the scent to him. She likes her water hot, apparently. Makes sense, for someone who’s used to heat. He’s looking forward to the hot water too, his muscles aching from a day of more work than he was expecting. 

He watches her, and can see her arms through the frosted glass, moving up and down. They stop at a certain angle and he snorts as they stay there. She's letting the water fall down her arms, letting the droplets drip from her fingertips. He remembers doing the same - albeit when he was much, much younger. “What are you doing?” he asks, trying to keep his amusement out of his voice.

They fall immediately. “Nothing!” is her response, and he just laughs, shaking his head. 

She pokes her head out a moment later, hair dark and slicked back from her face. He catches a glimpse of her bare shoulder as she glares at him. “Are you laughing at me?” 

“Maybe,” he replies, smirking and shrugging. “It’s fun to watch you.” 

Her cheeks are red, though it could be just the temperature of the water. She closes the door again. It opens half a second later, another bottle extended to him. “This?” 

“For your body,” he explains. 

“… it’s not a bar.” 

“No, it’s not,” he acknowledges. So she was familiar with the idea of soap, at least somewhat. “It can be a liquid, too.”

Her hand moves back inside the shower, and he resists the urge to chuckle as he watches her through the glass. She’s still for a few moments, obviously comprehending the idea, before she pours some into her hand. His eyes move to the floor again, ears open for any more questions.

None come. She must’ve figured a few things out for herself. He glances up occasionally, seeing as she moves back into the spray of the water. After a few moments, he can hear her hand against the buttons. She yelps suddenly, and he laughs aloud as he sees her jump back. 

“How do you turn it off?!” she demands, and he pushes himself off of the counter, striding over to her. He opens the door and reaches in, steadily avoiding looking at her as he turns the spray off. The only sound after is the dripping water from her, and the leftover water in the showerhead. He moves back out to grab the towel, offering it to her and keeping his eyes away from her as she wraps it around herself.

“Thank you.” 

It’s softer than he’s expecting, and he chances a look back at her. With the dirt and dust washed from her face, he can see the freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. Another glance reveals some on the tops of her bare shoulders, too, and across the top of her chest where her shirt didn’t cover entirely. He meets her eyes again, offering her a half-smile and an awkward nod. “You’re welcome.” 

He steps out of the shower so that she can get out after him. “There are clothes in the other room – you can change in there while I take mine, okay? I’ll lock the door so nobody without an override code can walk in on you.” 

She just nods, and follows him out into the room. 

“Hey.” 

He nearly trips over his own feet when he hears the greeting from near the door. Ben glances towards the front of the room, spotting Finn standing in the middle of the living area. “Oh, shi-“

“You-!” Rey lunges towards the ex-Stormtrooper. Finn looks terrified, but Ben launches himself forward and grabs Rey around the waist, locking his arms around her and bringing her back against his chest. 

“Clothes first!” he demands, trying to keep Rey still and somewhat covered in his arms and nearly failing. “Not in a towel, kid, not in a towel!” That's a lesson he learned first hand, admittedly. 

“Let go of me!” she snarls, struggling to get away from him. 

“I should-“ Finn says frantically, gesturing back towards the door as Rey goes somewhat still in Ben’s arms, fight leaving her. Ben huffs, shaking his head as he hunches over the scavenger, nearly holding her up. 

“No, give me a minute.” He looks down at Rey, her wet hair soaking through his shirt. “If I let you go, are you going to kill him?” he asks, lips near her ear – he’s only half kidding. 

“No,” she replies harshly, but honestly. He nods and lets her go, grabbing the pile of what he assumes are her new clothes from the table. 

“Here.” He puts them in her hands, and watches as she clutches them to her chest. “Fresher. You get dressed, I’ll talk to him.” 

She hesitates for a moment before stepping back into the fresher, the door closing behind her. Ben sighs, running a hand through his hair before looking back at Finn.

“Sorry,” the ex-Stormtrooper apologizes. The kid couldn’t look more awkward if he tried, shuffling and looking around the room curiously. 

“You told the General,” Ben acknowledges, walking to sit in one of the chairs. He gestures towards the other one. Finn practically collapses into it. 

“I told them what I could,” he replies. “It wasn’t much.” 

“It’s something,” the taller man says. “Rey knows.” 

“I can tell,” Finn mumbles, looking towards the fresher. 

“I didn’t tell her,” Ben defends, holding his hands up. “The 3PO unit, the gold one, he told her by accident.” 

The other man groans, his head falling into his hands. “What do I say to her?” 

“That you’re sorry, and that you shouldn’t have lied to her in the first place,” Ben suggests. 

Finn lifts his head, and stares at the fresher door. “… that’s the second time today she’s looked at me like that.” 

Ben’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “Like she's about to murder you?" he asks. "… you have a habit of pissing off pretty women? Because, if so, then we might be more alike than I thought.” 

The other man offers a weak chuckle, shaking his head slightly. His eyes snap back up to the fresher door when Rey emerges.  
Ben turns to watch her. She’s wearing Resistance issue-clothes, a grey tank top and plain black pants. He frowns. She doesn’t look like herself. She looks one of the dozens of pilots and fighters, one face in the midst of many. He doesn’t like it. 

“You can sit with us if you promise not to hurt him,” he offers teasingly. She gives him a look as she walks down to the sitting area and sits across from Finn. 

The ex-Stormtrooper’s sweating slightly, hands clasping and unclasping in his lap as he obviously tries to think of what to say. “Look, Rey-“

“Why?” she asks simply. 

Ben waits with baited breath, looking between the two. 

“I needed you to trust me,” Finn replies. “I just … I wanted to get out. It wasn’t right, what they were doing, killing innocent people just because of orders-“ 

“Did you?” she demands. 

“No,” he replies, immediately. “My first battle, I decided that I couldn’t do it anymore. So I ran. Right into you.” 

“And me,” Ben offers, holding his hand up. His chin’s propped on the other. Both of his passengers look towards him, Rey glaring and Finn trying not to smile at the obvious attempt at lightening the mood slightly. 

“I’m not a Resistance fighter,” Finn admits. “And I’m not sure that I want to be. But I told General Organa all that I could about the First Order and Poe Dameron.” 

Ben’s eyes move to Rey. The scavenger’s still, frowning at the ex-Stormtrooper before lowering her eyes to the ground. “… and Poe Dameron?” she asks. 

“He was captured and taken to the Finalizer,” Finn explains. “That’s where I was stationed. I was on Jakku when he was taken. I helped him escape. We took a TIE fighter, but their canons were too powerful to take out. We crash-landed. He didn’t make it.” 

The girl looks back up at him. “Where are you going now?” 

Finn looks towards Ben. 

The smuggler shrugs. “Wherever you want,” he admits. “I can take you anywhere you’d like to go.” 

“Anywhere but Jakku,” Finn says quickly. 

Ben snorts, and nods. "Anywhere but Jakku. I drop her off, we find a place for you, I head to Takodana. That’s the plan,” Ben announces, standing. “Now, if you’re done explaining, and you’re not going to kill him, I’m going to take a shower. That all right with anyone?” 

He takes the resulting silence as an affirmative, and stands, making his way towards the fresher. 

-

Rathtar blood sticks to skin just as well as it sticks to metal, apparently. He frowns, in the process of scrubbing off some of the pink gunk from his arm. 

“He said you told him to tell me.” 

He yelps and nearly drops the bottle on his foot. It narrowly misses, but some of the soap does splatter on the tile floor. He curses softly, reaching down to pick it up. 

“Ever heard of knocking, sweetheart?” he questions, putting it back on the shelf before resuming his scrubbing. 

“He also said you told him lying to women never ends well.” 

He can see her through the glass, her body sitting on the counter. “It’s the truth,” he replies, running his fingers over the scar on his collarbone. “If you’re going to lie to anyone, make sure it’s a man. Often times they’re too stupid to know any better.” 

He hears her soft laugh from the other side of the wall, and allows himself a smile as he reaches for his shampoo, moving to scrub at his hair. 

“You said you were taking me back to Jakku first,” she calls over the roar of the water. 

“Well, you said you had to get back,” he calls back. “Figured the sooner the better.” 

“... thank you.” 

He tips his head back into the spray, closing his eyes against the water and the soap. “You’re welcome.” 

There's a pause for a moment, and then, “Do all rooms have showers like this?” 

“Not all,” he replies. “There are a few others on base for rare occasions. Most people use sonic showers. Since my room’s near the General’s, and, you know, she's my mother, I got my own.” 

“Sonic showers?” she questions. 

“Doesn’t have water,” he explains, reaching to turn the water slightly hotter. He nearly moans as it helps loosen the muscles in his shoulders. He can see some of the bruises forming on his skin, flesh already darkening. There are a few blotches on his chest from her quarterstaff, and he smirks slightly, knowing that they’ll be a reminder for a while. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, not as nice,” he admits, running his hand through his hair to get all the shampoo out. “Mind leaving for a moment? I’m gonna get dressed.” 

He hears the door open and close as she leaves, and sighs, letting the water pound on his skin for just a few minutes more before he reaches to turn it off. He immediately misses the warmth, but he has to keep working on the Falcon before the next morning. He grabs the towel, wrapping it around his waist and walking to get his clothes. His shirt sticks to his wet shoulders, and he runs the towel over his hair before he walks out, barefoot. “Your turn, if you want to use it,” he tells Finn. “Figure we all got pretty dusty on that desert junkyard.” 

Finn’s up and out of his seat before Ben’s even finished his sentence. “Ever used a water-based shower?” Ben asks as the ex-Stormtrooper passes him. At the man’s headshake, Ben shrugs. “Like a sonic shower, but with water. Controls are easy enough to figure out.” 

Finn nods and disappears into the fresher. 

Ben looks towards Rey, who’s curled up in one of the chairs, her knees to her chest as she sits sideways in it. Her hair’s still down, curled around her shoulders as she plays with a strand of it. 

He sits across from her, leaning his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together. “… do you really want to go back?” His voice is quiet, questioning as he watches her braid the small section of hair in her fingers. 

“Yes,” she replies immediately, not even looking towards him.

“Mind explaining why?” 

She’s silent for a moment, and he wonders if he struck a wrong chord. “My family,” she replies finally. “They’re going to come back for me, and if that’s going to happen, I need to stay in the same place.” 

“They dumped you there?” Ben demands, aghast. 

“They had a good reason,” she insists. 

“Oh? And what reason was that?” 

She avoids his eyes, looking at her knees instead. She wraps her arms around them, curling into herself just a bit more. 

Ben bites his lip, before leaning forward more. “Look, kid…” he starts, before shaking his head. “Rey.” 

She doesn’t look up at him, eyes still firmly down. 

Nobody goes to Jakku unless they’re going to dump things they don’t want, he wants to tell her. 

But he can’t. He might be a bastard at times, an asshole and a jerk at others, but he isn't heartless. He isn't that cruel. So he sighs, running a hand through his drying hair, and offers her half of a smile. 

“All right. Jakku it is. I’ll take you back in the morning, you'll be back by mid-afternoon. Barely a day. How's that?" 

Her small, grateful smile is worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much in terms of moving the plot along, but I had some requests for Rey discovering a shower and one for Ben washing the Falcon Daisy-Duke style. I'd had a shower scene already planned, so that one was down, but I loved the idea of Ben washing the Falcon. Though (arguably) not as sexy or iconic as the Daisy Duke scene, I did get to incorporate my headcanon of him pinning his hair back, so there's that! (If anyone wants to draw fanart of that, you have my full permission and forever gratitude).  
> Thanks for reading!


	6. D'Qar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, I'm glad you guys liked the last chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! I love that several of you commented on how much you liked the little 'towel sequence' - I laughed while writing it and made my roommate a little concerned with how much I giggled.  
> Thank you so much for your kind comments. They make me want to knock out chapters just a bit faster to see how you guys react to the next one!

For as long as he can remember, his mother’s always been somewhere important – which, when he was younger, meant away from him. As the years went on and meetings became longer and more frequent with the rise of the First Order, he realized ‘important’ means somewhere she’s needed, somewhere she thrives in her element, and eventually “somewhere important” slowly changed from “not with him” into “helping others aside from him”.

Somewhere important, at this moment, means the command center. Since moving the base to D’Qar, she’s been a constant presence in the room – at least when he bothered to visit it. Though he could very well hold a position if he wanted to, he doesn’t very much like the idea of staying in one place and looking at projections all day. He’d much rather see the things in said projections up close and personal, dangerous though it may be. 

And, as selfish is it is to admit it, he doesn’t like being in charge of anyone’s life but his own. 

He takes the time to greet a few fighters as he passes them with Rey and Finn in tow, small waves and nods of acknowledgement and the occasional, “Hey it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” and a somewhat flirtatious grin that perhaps looks a bit too much like his father’s for anyone’s comfort. 

When he takes the time to glance towards Rey, he notices the scavenger’s eyes darting everywhere, somewhat in awe. She lingers just a bit longer by windows, attention drawn to the greenery around the base. Ben allows himself a small smile when he notices her nearly stop in her tracks at a particularly wide window, the view showing the grass-covered hangars. He has to prompt her back with a soft, “C’mon,” after that. 

Finn’s looking around is a little more obvious, head moving constantly in an attempt to take in everything. “This is really not like Starkiller,” he mutters as they pass a few of the barracks, the rooms loud with the return of pilots coming back from their flight training.

Ben looks towards him, glancing occasionally in front of himself so that he won’t run directly into some wayward fighter. “How’s it different?” 

“You can see peoples faces, for one,” Finn admits, glancing at two men dressed in orange and white, helmets held underneath their arms. The ex-Stormtrooper watches as one punches the other in the shoulder, both laughing loud enough for the sound to echo along the corridor. “Two,” he says, “everyone’s more open.”

Ben stares at him for a moment more, watching as the man looks shocked at the concept of a fist-bump between two more pilots. 

“Fist bump,” Ben offers. 

“Fist bump,” Finn repeats, as if trying to test the term on his tongue. The smuggler reaches and claps the ex-Stormtrooper on the shoulder, prompting Finn to look at him with wide eyes. 

“I’ll explain later,” Ben adds, and it’s nearly heartbreaking how open Finn’s face is, all soft hope and slight awe and a beaming smile. 

The command center’s crowded when they get there, and Ben has to push a line through admirals and captains in order to get to the General. After squeezing past at least five people, he huffs, and resorts to a tactic he used back when he was actually shorter than the woman and couldn’t push past quite as easily. “MOM!” 

His height allows for his voice to carry, thankfully, and he hears Finn laugh as people part for them. “Thank you,” Ben says somewhat sarcastically to the general area around him, as he makes his way to where his mother’s standing by one of the transmission consoles. He stops in front of her, gesturing to Rey, and then his mother. “Mom, Rey. Rey, General Leia Organa, otherwise known as Mom.”

“So you’re his other passenger,” Leia says, giving the scavenger a smile. Rey nods hesitantly as Leia grasps at her hands. “I saw you earlier, but Ben whisked you away too quickly to work on that damn ship.” She glances towards her son. 

Ben snorts. “Not my fault a rathtar exploded on it.”

Leia laughs softly, shaking her head at him before looking back towards Rey. “Thank you for your help in getting BB-8 back to us,” the general tells her.

“I didn’t do much,” Rey insists. 

“You found him and brought him home,” Leia replies, squeezing her hands before letting them go. She glances towards Finn. “Finn tells me that you’re an excellent pilot.” 

“Incredibly risky,” Ben offers, crossing his arms and smirking. “… but damn good at it.”

“I wonder who else fits that description,” Leia teases, smirking back at him before looking back towards Rey. “Our training facilities are back in the Hosnian system, however we can arrange transport if you’d like to-“

“Thank you,” Rey interrupts quickly. “But I have to get back home.” 

“Jakku,” Ben adds. 

Leia stills, before nodding. “Yes, of course, Ben mentioned that he’s taking you back.” 

“Ship should be ready by tomorrow morning,” the smuggler adds. “I’ll work on it through dinner and get up to load it. We need portions.” 

“Portions?” his mother asks, frowning. 

He jerks his head towards Rey. “I promised her 20 portions in exchange for her help on Jakku.” 

The corner of Leia’s mouth quirks up, and she nods. “I’ll ask someone to put a shipment together for her.” Her gaze returns to the scavenger. “A shipment is around 60 or so. Is that all right?” 

Ben watches as Rey’s eyes go wide, lips falling open. “I’ve never…” she starts, before trailing off. Then she starts nodding, nearly frantically, and smiling broadly. “Yes, yes, thank you.” 

Ben steps just a bit closer to her, brushing his arm against her shoulder. She glances up at him, and he smirks down at her as Leia turns towards Finn.  
“And you? Have you decided to take our offer?” the General asks. 

“Offer?” Ben questions, frowning at Finn. 

“She asked me if I’d stay with the Resistance,” Finn tells him, before looking towards the General. “I’m … I’m not sure, ma’am.” 

“Will you be going back to Jakku with Rey?” 

“No.” The man’s answer is quick, and Ben snorts at Finn’s horrified face. “No, not Jakku.” 

Leia looks amused, but nods. “You have-“ 

“I need the General!” 

Ben frowns, turning towards the sudden commotion near the entrance of the command room. “What’s going on?” he demands of the pilot who’s pushing their way through the crowd towards the General.

“It’s Dameron, ma’am, he’s requesting permission to land-“

“Give it to him!” Leia orders. “Which hangar?” 

“A35, ma’am.” 

Ben grunts as a shoulder runs right into his, and his hand flies to his arm as he looks towards who pushed him. His eyes find Finn trying to force himself through, bursting through the crowd out the other side and taking the steps two at a time. “Finn!” he calls over the chaos, glancing towards his mother. 

“Go,” she tells him, waving him off. “I’ll meet you there.” 

Ben nods, grabbing Rey’s hand and pulling her through. As soon as they reach the stairs, Ben has to throw out his arm to keep her back as Poe’s squadron rushes by. “That spread quickly,” he mutters, leading her through the maze of hallways. He nearly misses Finn running back towards him, the man’s eyes wide. 

“Hangar-?” Finn asks, breathless. 

“A35,” Ben tells him. “Third hallway on the left, sixth hangar on the right.” 

“Thank you!” And then the man’s gone, following the crowd towards the hangar. 

It’s sheer dumb luck that Ben hears the wheels of the gurney behind him and tugs Rey out of the way as medics rush by with the empty medical equipment. “Fuck, just how bad is he?” Ben breathes. “C’mon.” He breaks into a sprint, nearly pushing people out of the way in an attempt to get to the hangar. Rey runs right along side him, ducking in and out and between pilots and admirals and captains who want to see Dameron’s wellbeing just as eagerly as they. 

The ship’s not one of the Republics, nor is it one belonging to the Resistance. It’s a clunky piece of garbage, but Ben supposes if it got Poe home he can’t judge it too harshly. The crowd is immense, waiting for the pilot to exit the ship. He grabs Rey by the wrist and tugs her through the mass of people. He spots Finn somewhere in the middle, and grabs him along the way, too. 

His mother’s already somehow made her way to the front, having somehow made her way from the command center. She waits patiently as the ship door opens, and then gets stuck from the dust and sand in its gears. There’s a curse from the other side, and a harsh grinding sound, and then it falls to the hangar floor. 

“That’s Poe Dameron?” Rey questions as Ben’s face splits into a bright grin and the hangar erupts into cheers. 

“That’s Poe Dameron,” he confirms as the man steps out of the ship, holding his shoulder. Though his shirt is stained with blood, it’s not extensive, and he’s still upright and walking. And grinning like a bastard. 

“Poe Dameron,” Leia says, walking up to the pilot. “Do you know how much you scared us?” 

“Figured it was at least a little bit,” Poe replies, still grinning. “I’m sorry for scaring you, ma’am.” 

“My son calls me and tells me he has your droid, and that you’re dead,” Leia explains. “No distress signal, no contact, no nothing, and then suddenly you’re requesting permission to land?” 

“Ben?” Poe demands, his head whipping around. 

The smuggler takes that as his cue to step forward. And then he’s not stepping, he’s running, and wrapping his arms around his friend despite the amount of pain the pilot’s sure to be in. He hears Poe take in a sharp breath, and then the sharp breath turns into weak chuckles. 

Ben has to bend slightly to bury his face in Poe’s neck. The man smells of sweat and explosives and sun. Jakku. “You fucking bastard,” he mutters against Poe’s skin, covered in sand. 

Poe barks a laugh, good arm wrapping around Ben’s back. “Says you,” Poe teases. “What’s this about having my droid?” 

Ben pulls back just a bit, smirking. “You’ll get the full story in a bit. But for now-“ 

“Poe Dameron?” 

He watches as the pilot’s eyes widen, and his head turns to find the source of the voice. 

Finn’s moved so that he’s standing a few feet off, staring at Poe with wide eyes. Ben steps back a bit, giving the other man the opportunity to rush at the pilot. 

“Finn?” Poe asks, looking to Ben then Finn then back to Ben. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” 

“Surprise,” Ben quips, gesturing to the other man. 

Poe laughs again, rushing towards the ex-Stormtrooper with an open arm. Finn looks hesitant for a moment, but when Poe hugs him tightly, he wraps his arms around him just as hard. 

“You’re alive!” Finn insists. 

“So are you!” Poe says, incredulous and still laughing.

Finn pulls back to look the man in the face. “What happened?” 

“No idea,” the pilot admits. “All I know is that I woke up in the middle of the desert. No you, no ship, no nothing. It took me a good bit of wandering to find the outpost, even longer to find someone willing to lend me a ship.”

“I can’t believe you came in that thing,” Ben admits. 

“What do I say?” Poe asks. “I can-“ 

“Fly anything,” Finn finishes. 

Poe turns to grin at him. Ben watches as the grin falls as soon as Poe’s eyes move slightly lower, taking the entirety of the other man in. “That’s my jacket.” 

“Oh,” Finn starts, shrugging the leather off of his shoulders. “Here, you-“ 

“No, no, keep it,” Poe replies, grin returning. “It suits you.” 

Finn reluctantly moves the jacket back onto his shoulders while Ben bites his lip, hiding a smile. 

There’s suddenly a shrill squeal, and a rolling BB unit running into several admirals’ legs in its attempt to get to Poe. 

“BB-8, my buddy!” Poe cries, grinning as he kneels to greet the droid. 

“Dameron, we need to get you to medical to-“ one of the medics says, bringing the gurney around. 

“I’m fine, hold on,” Poe says, waving the man off so that he can talk to BB. “Hey, buddy! How’s it going?” 

The droid beeps an affirmative, knocking into Poe’s knee gently as an affectionate greeting. What follows is a series of beeps and boops and squeals, and Ben smiles as he realizes that the droid is telling the story of how he got on base. There’s a soft bump against his shoulder, and he glances down to see Rey, obviously listening as well and smiling softly. 

Finn, on the other hand, looks completely and utterly lost. 

Poe straightens, frowning. “He said you helped get him back to the base,” he says, glancing between the three. “With Han Solo.” His eyes fall on Rey, and then he’s walking towards her. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you-“ he starts, extending his right hand. But it’s his bad shoulder, and he hisses, and Rey looks alarmed at the man’s sound of pain.

“Rey,” she says hurriedly at the same time the medic says, “Dameron, either you get on the gurney or we’ll get your friends to force you onto it.” 

“All right, all right,” Poe breathes, hand clutching at his shoulder. He glances at the three. “I’ll see you in the medbay?” 

“I’ll bring flowers,” Ben teases, winking at the other man. 

“You damn well better,” Poe says, grinning before he lets himself be pushed back onto the gurney by the medics. 

Ben watches his friend as he gets taken away to the medbay. He also watches as Finn trails after him for a few moments, chasing after the gurney for a few steps before deciding against it. From where he’s standing, he watches as Poe’s taken around the corner. 

And then he turns, and Ben’s never seen the man smiling so brightly, except perhaps after he’d come up from shooting the TIE fighters on Jakku. “He’s alive!” 

“I knew it would take a lot more than a fighter crash to kill that man,” Ben says, snorting in amusement and shaking his head. “He’s a stubborn one.” 

“That’s part of the reason you make such good friends,” his mother teases as she walks over. She jerks her head towards the exit of the hangar. “He’ll need surgery for that shoulder. If you want to work on the ship, I’ll get someone to let you know when he’s out.” 

Ben swoops in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.” 

His mother gives him a wry grin before nodding him along. “Go on, work on the garbage.” 

“It’s not garbage!” Ben calls as he starts to walk back towards his own hangar. 

“That’s what your father said too!” 

Rey’s laughing beside him, walking beside him without him even asking her to come with. He glances down and grins at her. “You wanna help?” he asks. 

Her smile says it all, and he finds himself slowing down slightly so that she can keep up with his longer strides on the way to the hangar. 

-

“Bonding tape.” 

“Which one? You have four,” Rey asks from somewhere behind him. 

“The black one. I can’t see with these goggles,” Ben says. The lenses of the welders goggles are dark to protect his eyes from the bright flame and sparks, but it doesn’t help much in the way of seeing normally. 

“Here.” 

His hand is suddenly grabbed, her small fingers grasping for his, and then he has a roll of tape in his palm. She keeps hold for a moment longer, and then he feels the end of the tape as she sticks it to his thumb so that he can find it. 

He grins. “You’re fantastic,” he tells her, tearing a piece off and bending to wrap it around the wires he’d just soldered. He puts the flame back on the tape, watching as it melts the material to form a new coating around the wires. 

“All right, that’s done,” he tells her, pushing the goggles up onto his forehead. 

She snorts, hiding her smile behind a grease-and-grime covered hand. 

He blinks. “What?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” she says, a little too quickly. 

He frowns, reaching up and realizing why she’s laughing. With the goggles pushed up on his forehead, he’d inadvertently pushed his hair up too, and he can feel it sticking up. “Yeah, yeah, well, you should see Chewie after a bath. Now that’s a sight,” he says, bracing his feet against the side of the compartment. “Help me up?”

She reaches down and grabs his hands, tugging him up as he flings himself the rest of the way. He dusts himself off and, with her help, pulls the grate back over top. He stamps down on it to make sure it’s secure before turning towards her. “Converter fixed, cooling system fixed, parts from those blasted scavengers reattached, rathtar guts cleaned off …” He frowns. “What else is there?” 

Chewie roars from somewhere down the hallway, sounding annoyed. 

“Right, and my brave, wonderful and absolutely fantastic co-pilot fixed what we broke during our little stunt on Jakku!” Ben calls back. Chewie gives a satisfied grunt back as Rey grins. 

“Generators?” Ben calls. 

Chewie growls that they fixed that last time they were on base, and Ben nods. 

“Right, right,” he replies, giving the grate beneath him one more kick. “That should be it then. I’ll get up early and load the ship in the morning, and then we’ll be off.” He tosses a grin towards Rey. “Back to Jakku.” 

“Thank you,” she says, again. 

“Stop thanking me, it’s the least I can do.” Ben tells her, reaching up to pull the goggles from his head. He crosses over to the tool compartments and starts putting the things they’d used away – well, sort of. He shoves the welding tools into one compartment and closes the door before it can fall on his head. He’ll regret it later, he knows, but he’s too tired to care at this point. “Kriff, what time is it?” 

There’s a pause, and then Chewie roars out a number – 2. 

“In the morning?” Ben asks, running his hand through his hair. “Kriffing hell, we’ve been at this for over five hours.” 

They had, admittedly, taken a break about halfway through to eat. He’d gone to get two trays full of food while Rey worked with Chewie on the converter, undoing her work on the old one and helping to put in the new. He’d sat with her at the hologram board and watched as she’d taken apart a string of berries bit by bit, nearly moaning at the first sweet bite. “Like that better than the pear?” he’d asked, and she’d nodded insistently while he laughed. 

“C’mon, let’s get to bed,” he mutters. “Chewie, you staying here?” 

The Wookie roars that he is – he’s more familiar with the bunks than his room at the Resistance base. Ben nods. 

“We’ll see you in the morning! Meet at 700?” he calls, and the Wookie roars his agreement. With that settled, Ben jerks his head towards the ramp. “All right, bed time.” 

He helps Rey over the few compartments that still need to be screwed closed by his copilot, and leads her down the ramp. “I don’t know whether Mom arranged for rooms for you,” Ben mumbles, running his hand down his face. He grimaces when he realized what he just did, looking at his grease-covered fingers. He’s sure to have black streaks on his cheeks and temples now. “But I have a couch in mine,” he continues, “and I can sleep on that while you take the bed.” 

“What about Finn?” Rey asks. 

“Good question that I don’t know the answer to,” Ben admits. “I guess we’ll see if he’s still waiting by the medbay.” 

He’d passed the man on the way to get food, and found him waiting outside the medbay waiting for news on Poe’s surgery. He wasn’t able to offer Ben much, just that the damage wasn’t extensive but it’ll take some time to repair properly. He mentioned a bacta tank for a few hours, as well. Ben had just nodded, clapped the man on the shoulder and continued on his way. He wonders if Finn’s still there, sitting against the wall with his knees pulled in and elbows resting on them. 

When they walk by it, there’s no sign of Finn outside of the medbay. Ben glances in the glass window, and smirks when he sees the two. 

“Guess he found someplace to sleep,” he says, jerking his head towards the window. Rey walks to stand beside him. 

Poe’s lying on one of the beds, sheet pulled up to his chin but chest rising and falling evenly. And then there’s Finn, sitting in one of the chairs beside him, his head tipped back against the wall. 

“Should we wake him?” Ben asks, looking down at Rey. “Get him to a real bed?” 

She watches for a moment more before shaking her head. “Leave him,” she says quietly. “He obviously wants to be with him.”

Ben nods and continues the walk to his rooms. The hallways are quiet, very few people milling about. He can see a few in the gym, getting some late night training in while the facilities are nearly empty. His own footsteps sound way too loud on the floors of the corridors, Rey’s light and soft behind his. 

The beep of his door is wince-inducing in its loudness as he types in his code. He steps in as soon as the metal slides away, glancing back towards Rey to make sure she’s following. He catches her yawning, jaw nearly cracking with the movement, and smirks. 

“Tired, huh?” he questions. 

“It’s been a day,” she admits. “On Jakku, work ends significantly earlier. You don’t want to be out after the sun’s gone down. Too many hungry creatures, and you can’t see where you’re going. A few scavengers have tried, but they were either eaten or blown to pieces from not seeing the materials around a TIE fighter.” 

Ben lets out a low whistle, heading to his bed. He strips one of the top blankets off and grabs one of the pillows, making his way over to the couch. “Tough,” he says, to which she just shrugs. 

“All right. You get the bed, I’ll take the couch, you let me know if you need anything?” he asks, turning towards his closet and reaching for his sleepclothes. He glances back towards her, noticing that she’s still in the Resistance uniform they’d given her. “You need something to sleep in?” 

“This is fine,” she replies quietly, already walking towards the bed. He shrugs and gets a pair of soft black pants out, walking towards the fresher to change.  
He turns at her soft squeak of shock, eyes wide as he finds her sitting on the bed, looking completely and utterly surprised. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“It’s soft.” 

He blinks. “Well, yeah, it’s a bed,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the galaxy. Which, to him, it is. 

She looks up at him, her hand pressed against the top of the bed. “I have a hammock, and if I did find a bed in one of the abandoned ships, Jakku isn't exactly known for keeping things soft," she explains, somewhat snappily. 

“That explains a lot,” he admits. “You familiar with the concept of a blanket?” He’s only half teasing. 

“Yes,” she says, perhaps with a bit more venom than strictly necessary. 

He shrugs. “Then you’re fine. Yell if you need something.” He steps into the fresher, already stripping himself of his shirt. He grimaces at the grease covering his face, reaching for a cloth to wipe it off with. 

There’s a soft knock on the fresher door, and he reaches over to let her in, still wiping the black from his skin. “Yeah?” he asks. 

She blinks at the sight of him, still grease-streaked and shirtless. “Could I-“ she starts, looking quickly towards the toilet. 

He stares at her, dumbly, before her words truly register and he steps out of the way. “Oh, yeah, sure, no problem. I’ll just change out here.” 

“I can wait,” she insists quickly, to which he shakes his head. 

“Nah, it’s fine, go ahead,” he says, stepping out with his clothes and closing the door behind him. He hears her move inside of the room a moment later, and steps further away. 

He tosses his shirt into the container he’d deigned as a dirty clothes bin a long time ago, his pants quickly following. He uses one of the other mirrors in the space, the long one attached to the closet, to scrub at the marks on his arms. There isn’t much on his chest, but he does have black marks on his neck and some around his eyes from the goggles. He scrubs at them perhaps a bit harder than strictly necessary, skin quickly turning pink from the force. He tosses the cloth across the room into the bin when finished, making a mental note to get the clothes to the washing room in the morning before he starts to load the ship in hopes that they’ll be ready by the time they go. 

He’s in the process of pulling his pants on when Rey emerges, hands rubbing at her arms. 

“Anything wrong?” he asks, watching as she stares in marvel at her hands. 

“Not used to cold water,” she admits, smiling up at him. “Cool, sometimes. Cold? Never.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You’re tired and talking nonsense. Bed,” he orders, pointing to the bed. She steps more into the light, and he frowns. “Wait, no, hold on, you still have grease on your temple.” 

“Do I?” she asks as she brushes the meat of her thumb against her left temple.

“Other one,” Ben offers, rolling his eyes when she misses it yet again. “Seriously, you’re hopeless,” he mutters, walking over and gripping her chin. “C’mere.” 

She stays still, eyes focused on his as he takes his thumb and rubs against the grease mark until there’s only tan skin left behind. “There,” he says, letting her go. “Grease-free.” 

She says nothing, but he doesn’t pay any mind to her silence as he turns and walks back into the living area, spreading the blanket over the couch and setting the pillow at the head of it. It’ll be a squish, that’s for sure – his feet fall over the end of the bunk on the Falcon, and the couch is a bit smaller. But it’ll do for a night. He glances towards Rey, who’s made her way over to the bed. He snorts in amusement as she kneels on it, trying to get her balance. 

“Stop laughing,” she snaps, and he just holds his hands up. 

“Not laughing at you, sweetheart.” 

“Yes, you are.” 

“All right, maybe a little,” he replies, grinning. She rolls her eyes at him, slipping beneath the covers and curling up impossibly small. When she’s just a lump under the covers, he walks to the lights and dims them. His walk back to the couch is a bit strange, considering he usually turns the lights off using the control pad next to his bed, and he stubs his toe on the table on the way there, letting out a curse. 

Rey laughs softly from the bed. 

“Now who’s laughing?” Ben mutters as he finally finds the couch, collapsing onto it and nearly hitting his head on one of the armrests. 

Silence follows, but he can hear her trying to contain her laughter. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, lying back. It takes some maneuvering to get his body into a comfortable position. In the end, it results in him hanging his feet off the side of the couch, the armrest cutting into his shins slightly, but it’s more comfortable than lying on his side. 

Silence follows his shuffling, and he doesn’t let himself close his eyes until he hears her deep, even breathing and knows she’s asleep as well. 

-

“Ben. Ben. Ben!” 

He groans, trying to shake off the pressure on his shoulder. “Chewie, get off.” 

The pressure’s gone almost immediately. “Did you just call me Chewie?” The question’s asked with no small amount of amusement. 

Ben’s eyes open, just a slit, and he glances towards the side to see slim legs standing next to them. He follows them up to see a smirking Rey. “… you’re definitely not Chewie,” he mumbles, voice thick and groggy with sleep. He sits up and groans as his head spins. “What time is it?” 

“700,” Rey replies. “You said you were meeting Chewie and then loading the ship.” 

That’s right. “That’s right,” he mutters, standing and nearly stumbling from getting up too quickly. “Whoa, headrush,” he says, almost pitching forward. 

He feels small, calloused hands against his chest as she tries to keep him upright. “Steady.” 

“I’m fine,” he insists, shaking his head of the grogginess and stepping away from her. “Yeah, all right, give me a moment to get dressed.” 

He notices that she’s still in the Resistance clothes, but her old ones have been folded and put on the table beside him, ready to go. “You gonna change?” he asks, looking her up and down. 

She looks down at herself. “… do I need to give them back?” she questions, almost shyly. 

“No,” he replies, hand moving to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Was just wondering, that’s all.” 

Both of them look up when there’s a knock on the main door. They look towards each other, before back towards the door. Ben takes the first step, nearly stumbling towards it. He slams his fist against the button, leaning perhaps a bit too much against the frame to keep himself upright. “Yeah, what’s up?” he asks, blinking the sleep away. 

“Poe’s woken up,” Finn tells him eagerly from where he’s standing. Ben can see the dark circles under his eyes, and the way the man’s holding himself alludes to sore muscles due to sitting in a chair, but Finn’s smile is bright. “He’s going to be fine. A few scars, but nothing too bad, and no permanent damage.” 

“That’s great,” Ben says, giving the ex-Stormtrooper a soft smile back. “That’s fantastic. We’ll visit him before we go.” 

The other man shift slightly. “About that-“ 

Ben’s smile turns into a smirk, and he crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the doorway. He can feel Rey behind him, her arm brushing against his bare side. “You’re staying, aren’t you?” he asks. 

“For a little while,” Finn interjects. “I still don’t know if I want to join the Resistance, and I probably won’t, but-“

Ben holds up his hand. “Poe. Hey, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. Mom knows how to contact me if you ever want to get off and go somewhere else.” He offers his hand to the other man, smiling. “I’m sure I’ll see you before we go, but just know it was a pleasure meeting you, Finn.” 

Finn’s grip on his is borderline painful, all hard muscle and force. Ben can practically hear his bones grinding. But the man’s smile is bright and open. “You too, Ben. When are you leaving?” 

“As soon as I load the ship,” Ben replies. “I need portions for this one,” he says, jerking his head down towards Rey. “And some more supplies, and then we’ll be off.” 

“Let me know when that’s happening?” 

“Will do. I’ll send someone to the medbay; or, actually, I'd like to see Poe - I'll pop by myself to see you both.” 

The man’s cheeks darken ever so slightly, and Ben smirks as Finn nods and turns, walking back towards the pilot. 

Ben jerks back as there’s a brush against his leg, and he looks down to see Poe’s droid. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, squatting to be near the BB unit. “Take care of him for me, all right? With luck, I’ll be back soon with more of the map.” 

BB-8 beeps cheerfully, and Ben grins. 

“Yeah, I like him too,” the smuggler says, glancing at Finn’s retreating form. “Take care of both of them, all right?” 

The droid nods and beeps again before rolling off quickly, intent on following the ex-Stormtrooper. Ben can hear Finn’s excited, “Hey, BB!” from down the hallway.  
He glances down towards Rey. “Ready to go home?” he asks, raising one dark eyebrow at her. 

For once, there’s a small moment of hesitation before she says, “Yes.” 

-

The portions are split into a two containers, 60 portions per shipment. They’re incredibly light, much to Ben’s surprise and pleasure as he picks them up and moves them on board. There's one more container than he’d asked for, and he smiles as he realizes that it totals to 120 portions. He tries to keep the extra one hidden from Rey, but fails miserably since he didn’t realize he’d placed it directly in the walkway as he loaded the other one. She nearly trips over it as she walks on board holding an extra converter, and frowns down at it before looking towards the other. Her eyes widen, and he can see her open her mouth to protest. “I don’t-“ she starts, but he holds his hand up. 

“Save it,” he insists. “It’s not like we’re giving you an X-wing, kid. We’re giving you food. There’s a difference between luxury and necessity. This,” he says, kicking at one of the boxes. “Is definitely a necessity.” 

She hesitates, shifting the converter in her hands, before nodding and turning the other way to find someplace to store the spare part. 

He stacks the rest of the boxes, securing them in place with a cord so that they don’t go flying, and then moves to find the Wookie. 

Chewie’s working outside, fixing one more panel that had loosened in their flight on Jakku. Ben walks by and claps his uncle on the shoulder. “I’ll be back,” he tells him. “Going to see Poe and then I’ll be right back, all right?” 

The Wookie roars in response, nodding before returning to hammering out the metal. 

“Rey!” Ben calls up into the ship. “Want to see Finn before we go?”

She pokes her head down from the ramp. “Are you going to the medbay?” 

“Yeah.” 

The scavenger walks her way down the ramp, and he starts to walk with her by his side to the medbay. Most people either aren’t up yet or are in morning training, so they don’t encounter too many others on their way to the medbay. Apparently one of the hangars had leaked some fuel sometime during the morning, because when the door slides open Ben can see a few pilots with masks over their faces to help rid their lungs of the fumes. He frowns, but shrugs when one of them gives him a cheery wave and a thumbs up. “Feel better!” he calls as he makes his way over to Poe. 

“I thought you were going to bring flowers,” the pilot teases, sitting up. He looks strange in white; orange or brown takes up most of his wardrobe, with the occasional uniform instead of flight suit. 

Ben grins and sits on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t miss Finn, still in the same chair from the night before except now a bit closer to the side of the bed. “Yeah, well, I guess I could’ve made some out of some spare parts, but with all the repairs to the Falcon I couldn’t get outside.” 

“Still flying around in that thing?” Poe asks, raising an eyebrow and smirking. 

“’That thing’ is a war relic and a damn fine ship, thank you,” Ben insists. 

“Relic being the key word,” Poe teases, reaching over to punch Ben in the shoulder. “Got another job?” 

“You could say that,” Ben replies, looking towards BB-8, who’s near Finn’s feet. “The map wasn’t complete. I’m off to find the rest of it. Or at least to find someone who can tell me where the rest of it might be.” 

Poe slumps slightly, hand moving through his dark curls. “Damn,” he mutters. “I really thought-“

“That this was it? Yeah, so did we, but nothing’s ever easy for the Light side, is it?” Ben asks, grinning. “It’s fine, I need to drop her off on Jakku.”

“Jakku?” Poe asks, frowning and looking towards Rey. “Why do you want to go back there?” 

“Family,” Ben interjects simply. 

Poe’s face softens almost immediately, and he nods. “Understandable.” He smiles and extends a hand towards Rey. “Well, I wish I could’ve spoken to you more, Rey.” 

The girl’s face brightens considerably when the pilot says her name. “You remembered,” she says, smiling as she takes his hand and squeezes it lightly. 

“I did,” Poe replies. “And I have no intention of forgetting it. You helped get BB-8 here, after all. Thank you.” 

“It wasn’t all me,” she insists.

“Well, it was at least some of you,” Poe says, before looking back towards Ben. “Stay safe. Contact often.” 

“Says the man who did neither,” Ben replies wryly. The pilot gives him a shit-eating grin. 

“Do as I say, not as I do.” 

“Easier said than done.” 

“Return in one piece?” 

“Again, easier said than done.”

Poe snorts, shaking his head. “Just don’t die on me, how about that?” 

Ben grins, leaning over to hug his best friend. “I’ll try my best.” 

“I’ve seen your best, and your best isn’t very promising, Solo.”

“Shut it, Dameron,” Ben teases, before letting go and standing. He looks towards Finn, offering his hand for the second time that morning. Finn takes it and shakes it, again. “Take care of him for me, all right? Anything happens, Mom knows how to contact me.” 

The ex-Stormtrooper nods. “Yes, sir.” 

“Great.” 

Rey moves to have her turn, Finn taking her hands in his. “Will I see you again?” he asks. 

“Probably not,” she admits. “You don’t seem to like Jakku very much.” Her tone is teasing, her smile soft as she looks down at him.

“If it has you on it, I’ll go,” Finn tells her. 

Ben watches as her face splits into a grin, bright and beautiful, with her cheeks reddening slightly. “You mean it?” 

“I do. I’ll just, I don’t know, land better this time.” 

The pilot beside him laughs sharply. 

“You ready?” Ben asks of Rey. She reluctantly pulls her hands from Finn’s and nods. He watches her as she moves to the door, lingering a bit longer to pat Poe’s sheet-covered knee and grin at Finn before following her. 

They’re exiting the medbay when he jerks his head towards his rooms. “I forgot something. Can you get back to the hangar from here?” 

“Sure,” she replies, frowning. “What’d you forget?” 

“Blaster,” he lies. 

“I thought you grabbed that from the table?” 

“Not that one,” he adds. “I’ll meet you on the Falcon, all right?” 

“All right?” she offers, confused as he turns and starts walking back towards his rooms. He darts inside and walks the path to his closet. 

“Leave it to Mom to not bother going through this,” he mutters, moving past shirts he hasn’t worn since before his shoulders broadened with puberty. He pushes those aside, looking for worn brown fabric. 

He finds it, towards the back. The leather on the shoulders, elbows and back is a bit more worn than he remembers, and it’s a lot smaller than the last time he’d seen it. He holds it up against his own chest and snorts when the shoulders don’t even reach across the span of his torso. 

But it’s not for him, so it doesn’t matter. 

He tucks the jacket under his arm, folding it messily before leaving the room. He doesn’t bother looking back; he used to, when he was younger, casting wistful glances back at the rooms he used to stay in in case it would be the last. After several bases, a few different residences and other rooms elsewhere, he gave up on being sentimental. It’s just a room, he’d decided; it makes no difference to him whether it stays the same or even exists the next time he returns. 

He makes his way back to the hangar, the jacket tucked under his arm. He can see that the supplies that had been stacked up beside the ship have been taken inside, either by Chewie or Rey. The ramp’s just lowered for him, now. He walks up, pressing the side so that it closes behind him. From there he walks to the cockpit, where he’s surprised to see Rey in the copilot’s and Chewie sitting in one of the passengers. 

He glances towards the Wookie, and raises one dark eyebrow. His uncle just shrugs and nods, roaring his answer. _One more time for her_ , he says. _I thought she would want to._

Ben offers his uncle a smile before sitting in the pilots. “Here,” he says, tossing the jacket into Rey’s lap. 

The girl jumps slightly, startled at the sudden throw. “What is it?” she questions, unfolding the fabric and holding it up.

“A jacket,” Ben replies. “If anything, it’ll keep the sun off of your shoulders. I saw your tan lines, on your arms. It’ll keep you from getting burned too badly. It’s not entirely leather, so it should be cool.”

She stares at it for a moment, glancing over towards him. “Ben-“

“It doesn’t fit me anymore, and it never will, so just take it, kid,” he says, reaching over to prep the Falcon for its exit out of the hangar. He reaches up, flipping switches before reaching for the controls. 

She says nothing, but he watches out of the corner of his eye as she shifts, slipping the jacket over her arms and pulling it up over her shoulders. It’s too big, just a bit, the shoulders broader than hers and the sleeves slightly too long. But he watches as she leans back, curling in on its warmth. 

“Ready?” he asks, reaching over to prep the hyperdrive. 

“Ready,” she repeats, reaching over onto his side to prep the converters. 

“All right,” he says as he presses the comm. “Falcon ready to go.” 

“You’re really leaving without saying goodbye, Ben Solo?” 

All three in the cockpit freeze at Leia’s amused voice. Rey smirks, her knuckles going to her lips as she tries to contain her laughter. Chewie chuckles in the passenger seat. 

"Sithspit," Ben mutters under his breath, barely a whisper. “… yes?” he offers a bit more loudly, shoulders hunching, embarrassed. 

“You really are just like your father.”

“Hey!” 

Ben nearly strains his throat at how hard he snorts at his father’s protest. 

“Send us a message when you’re leaving Jakku, at least,” his mother tells him. 

“Yes, Mom.” 

“And let us know where Maz directs you. Just coordinates, keep it low.” 

“Yes, Mom,” Ben repeats, casting a glance towards Rey who’s still trying not to laugh. 

“Just let us know you’re alive sometimes, kid?” Han asks. 

“Are we clear or not?” Ben asks. 

“Yes, you’re clear,” Leia mutters. 

“Thank you. I’ll let you know,” Ben replies, shaking his head as he ends the message. He looks towards Chewie, nearly rolling his eyes. “How did you deal with them?” 

_She was worse when she was younger_ , the Wookie admits with a growl. Rey does laugh aloud at that, her hand moving down from her mouth. 

Ben huffs, lifting the ship and letting it hover for a mere moment before taking off into D’Qar’s blue sky. They’re on the edge of the atmosphere before he hits the hyperdrive and sets the course for Jakku, glancing towards Rey. 

“Home time,” he tells her, expecting a smile or a nod or something of the sort. 

He gets only silence as she stares out at the passing stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry; we'll see the dynamic Stormpilot duo again, most definitely. They're in the tags, aren't they? ;)  
> Thanks for reading! I hope to get the next chapter out soon, seeing as I have half of it written and the rest all planned out. Please drop a comment if you get the chance; they always encourage me to write more!


	7. Jakku

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd I tell you? Comments = quicker chapters. I debated saving this for Friday, but ultimately decided not to since it seemed a bit too long to wait, especially when I've had it written out for the past week or so. Your reactions are the best parts of the comments, to be honest.   
> I'm so glad you all like Ben; I was really worried I was writing him too stereotypical like his father, but I'm happy that it doesn't seem to be the case and that you can see Leia in him too.   
> This is a bit of a shorter chapter, but it deals with something that needed to be done and I'm satisfied with the way I ended it.  
> Thanks again for the response to the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy! ;)

Jakku’s farther away than he remembered it being. Their expected trip length is a few hours, landing them on the desert planet somewhere mid-afternoon. It’s later than he’d like, and he’s sure it’s much later than she’d like, but it’ll have to do. 

He sits back when the course is plotted, folding his hands behind his head. “So,” he starts, before stopping almost directly afterwards. He frowns, tilting his head, as Rey stares at him curiously. Ben stands suddenly, looking around and pointing in general directions. “There was…” he mutters. “… there was a clicking sound, last time I flew her.” 

“Yes,” Rey says, still staring at him. 

He turns to blink at her. “… what did you do with my clicking sound?” he demands. 

“I fixed it,” she replies simply. “Two wire boxes were knocking together, so I taped one to the left and one to the right.” 

“Where?” 

She points to the panel directly above him, and he stands on the pilot’s chair to pry the panel away. He reaches down and hands it to her before peering inside the mess of wires and connector boxes. 

Lo and behold, one of the boxes is taped with orange bonding tape to the right side of the box while the other is taped with yellow to the left. “… huh,” he admits, staring at the solution that she’d come to. “Didn’t even think of that. Just kinda dealt with it. Good job.” 

He takes the panel back and puts it into place before climbing down from his chair. “You’re good at mechanics,” he says, crossing one long leg over the other and reclining back in the seat. Chewie’s wandered off somewhere, leaving him and Rey in the cockpit. 

“Working parts means more portions,” she explains. “If you can get some scrap and create something usable, Unkar will pay more.” 

“How long have you been working for that blobfish?” Ben asks, raising an eyebrow at her. 

She shrugs slightly, eyes moving back to the stars they’re passing, bright white streaks and dark space. “Since I was little,” she explains simply. “I stopped counting a while ago.” 

“Counting what?” 

She glances over towards him. “The days,” she replies. “I still mark them, but I don’t remember the exact number anymore.” 

Mark them, she says. He frowns, shifting in his seat, but doesn’t question the phrase. “You really think they’re coming back?” he asks. He immediately winces. His tone was significantly more condescending than he’d planned, and he regrets it as she turns to glare at him. 

“I know they are,” she insists. 

He holds his hands up, bowing his head slightly. “Sorry, shouldn’t have said anything,” he mutters. “Of course they’ll come back. Why wouldn’t they want someone like you?” 

She’s silent, turning away from him and watching the stars again. 

He waits for a bit to see if she’ll respond, before turning back to the console. “I know we didn’t get much sleep,” he mutters. “I’ll wake you when we’re approaching the system, all right? Seats are back there if you want to curl up.” He jerks his head back towards the seats surrounding the hologram board. “But there’s also the bunks if you want to crash there, too.” 

“I’m fine,” she insists, even though she tries to hide a yawn behind her hand. 

He smirks, shrugging. “Suit yourself. Offer stands,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the galaxy fly by. 

He hears her shifting a few moments afterwards, and turns to see her curled in the seat with her knees to her chest and her head resting on the back. 

“You’re going to hurt your neck like that.” 

“I’m fine, Solo.” 

“Solo?” he asks, raising both dark eyebrows at her with a smirk. “You make me sound like my father.” 

She turns slightly to glance at him. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” 

“You tell me – you’ve met the guy.” 

She offers him a smile, before turning back and curling back up. He can’t see her eyes close from this angle, but he can hear her breathing even out. He shakes his head before returning his attention to the space in front of him, watching the screen as they approach Jakku. 

-

She sleeps for a good part of the trip. He casts glances towards her occasionally, but she seems fine curled up in the copilot’s. Chewie pops in occasionally, asking how long they have to go. By the time Ben says it’s fifteen minutes before they hit the system, Rey’s stirring, frowning and grimacing at her stiff muscles. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” Ben teases as she groans, stretching her legs in the small space the cockpit provides. 

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” she mumbles, voice groggy from sleep as she rubs at her eyes. 

“And I thought I told you not to sleep in that chair,” Ben retorts, smirking as she stands, moving back to where the ceiling is higher to stretch. He can hear the crack of her shoulders from the pilot’s seat. “Kriffing hell, kid, you all right?” 

“Fine,” she breathes, coming back to the copilot’s. “How far away are we?” 

“We’ll be entering the system in about 15,” he replies. “From there, it’s 10 until we hit your home.” 

She curls back up, this time facing him with her arms wrapped around her knees. “Thank you.” 

“You’ve gotta stop thanking me, kid,” Ben mutters, reaching over to prep the engine to drop out of hyper drive. “It’s fine, really. I’m glad I can get you back.” He glances towards her. “… though I’m glad you came with us, too.” 

“You didn’t exactly give me a choice,” she says, but her tone is teasing. “You told me to ‘get in or die’, if I remember.” 

He shrugs. “It was true,” he insists. “They would’ve shot you. Or worse.” 

“Worse?” 

“Tortured you, more likely,” he mutters. “Asked where we were going, who we were, why you had the droid. It wouldn’t have been pretty; it would’ve been painful.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “You’ve been through it?” 

“A handful of times,” he admits. “Though, thankfully, everyone I’ve been tortured by’s been shit at it. And awful at restraints too.” 

That gains him a small smile, nearly hidden behind her knees. 

He stares at her for another moment before looking back towards the approaching planets. “Listen, kid, I wanted to ask you something.” 

She sits up, resting her chin on her knees instead of hiding it behind them. “Mhm?” 

He grips the controls, thumb running over the worn leather covering them. “… I’ve been thinking of adding someone to the crew. Someone who can fix the ship. Someone who knows their stuff, you know?” he offers. “Chewie’s great, and all, but we have an extra bunk and-“

“You’re offering me a job.” 

He snorts, glancing towards her. He’s surprised to see that her knees have dropped back down, and she’s grinning at him, smile bright. “… well, yeah,” he replies, perhaps a bit dumbly, he thinks. He reaches up and runs his hand through his hair. “And I know you’ve got to get home, and I know you say your family’s waiting for you, but…” He stares at her, letting his hand fall. “… do you really believe they’re actually coming back?” 

Her grin disappears. “What do you mean?” she demands, eyes quickly narrowing. 

“I mean,” he says, slow and even. “I mean that Jakku is a junkyard. It’s a scrap pile, Rey. People only go there if they’re desperate, or if they want to drop something that doesn’t work anymore, or…” 

She says nothing, daring him to finish.

He leans forward slightly. “Or if it isn’t wanted.” 

“You don’t mean that,” she snaps. 

He shrugs. “I’ve seen it happen with old ships.” 

“I’m not a ship!” she nearly yells. 

“What I’m trying to say is, they’re not coming back, Rey,” he snaps back. 

“Yes, they are!” She stands so suddenly she hits her head on the low ceiling of the cockpit, even as short as she is. She winces, hand flying to her head to assess the damage. 

“Kriffing hell,” Ben mutters, standing and keeping his stance low so he doesn’t do the same thing. “C’mere, lemme see.” 

She steps back, away from the copilot’s seat. “Don’t touch me,” she snarls. 

“I just want to see-“ 

“See if I’m okay?” she demands. “Is that it, Solo?”

He throws his hands up. “Back at it again with the ‘Solo’!” 

She’s glaring at him. “They are coming back. They are. I don’t know when, but they’ll come back. And they’ll take me somewhere green, and I’ll have a family again.” 

“I could do that!” Ben insists, gesturing with both hands towards his chest. “I can take you somewhere green! We could turn this damn ship around and go right now! Naboo, Takodana, you name it, I’ll take you!” 

“I don’t want to go with you,” she snarls. “I want them.” 

“And what if they don’t come back, huh?” Ben demands. “What if you’re stuck on Jakku for the rest of your life? What about that?” 

“That’s not going to happen.”

“But what if it does?” 

“It’s not going to!” 

He runs his hand through his hair harshly, nearly wincing when he feels a few strands tug away. “Rey-“ 

“I’m not going with you,” she mutters, and he watches as she shrugs out of his jacket in a way that he supposes was a try at being defiant, but instead her arms get stuck and she struggles. He watches as she huffs, tugging at the leather and brown fabric before tossing it at him. “Keep your damn jacket. And use your own copilot.” The words are nearly spat at him before he watches her stomp towards the living area. Chewie stands in the entrance to the cockpit a moment later, roaring in question. 

“Yeah, I know, I fucked up,” Ben mutters, shaking his head before tossing the jacket into one of the passenger seats. “Maybe I should start lying to women again." He glances back towards the living area. "The truth just pisses them off more.” 

Chewie growls mournfully and shakes his head, sliding into the copilot’s seat. 

“Ten minutes until we enter the atmosphere,” Ben tells him. “We’ll drop her and be on our way.” 

The Wookie gives him a look. Ben just huffs. 

“I’m serious. Drop her and we’re gone.” 

Chewie shakes his head before reaching over to prep the ship for its landing on the desert. 

-

He’s never been good at landings. Even on the smooth floor of the D’Qar hangar, he’s still a little rocky. The sand on Jakku makes it significantly harder, though, and he has to try twice before they manage to find a spot of sand that won’t result in them sinking through to Maker-knows-where. It’s not too far from where they found Rey, though, if he can recall, so they can’t be too far from where she calls home. 

As soon as he manages to land the ship, he’s up from his seat and heading towards the lounge. “We’re here, kid,” he calls, not even bothering to look at her as he makes his way towards the cargo bay to get her portions. “Chewie’ll lower the ramp. You lead the way, I’ll get the portions.”

He hears her walk by him on her way towards the ramp. He doesn’t dare look back at her as he gathers the two medium-sized containers, one balanced on top of the other. The crates go just past the tip of his nose, so he can see somewhat all right over the top of them. He looks around them, though, as he descends the ramp – he knows with his luck and his big feet, he’ll trip and go sprawling. 

When he reaches the sand, Chewie takes the top crate before the ramp ascends and closes. Rey’s already started walking towards the sun, the giant star low in the sky. 

“C’mon,” Ben prompts, starting to follow her. “Drop and go.” 

Chewie just shakes his head again, but walks alongside the smuggler. 

It takes them a good ten minutes of walking. Despite the late afternoon, it’s still hot, and Ben can feel the sweat on the back of his neck as he walks with the crate in his arms. He nearly sighs in relief when he spots the dark shape in the distance. He squints into the sun, trying to see the silhouette. “Is that-?” he asks. 

Chewie roars that it is; an AT-AT walker, tipped on its side and taken over by the sand. 

Rey’s several dozen paces ahead of them, and Ben watches from a distance as she slams her staff against the entrance. When nothing emerges, she climbs inside of it, staff still in hand. By the time he and Chewie get there, she’s apparently inspected the place for intruders and found none.   
“You can put them in here,” she mutters, jerking her head inside the walker. 

Ben glances towards the Wookie. “I don’t think he’ll fit,” he admits, but he follows her into the walker. The heat inside is nearly stifling, and he nearly chokes on the stale air of old metal and Jakku dust. 

She points to a nearly empty space by what he assumes is her makeshift kitchen. He can see a small stove, put together from old parts, and a few of what he guesses is her substitute for pans. He pushes a small box of miscellaneous things to the side before putting the crate down and casting a look around. 

The first thing he sees is a shelf, built into one of the ‘walls’ of the AT-AT. He stares at the contents; bits and bobs, small things she couldn’t throw away. He frowns, stepping over a few parts to get a closer look at an orange thing, the only glaring bit of color in the entire home. 

It’s a small doll, made out of old Resistance fighter suit fabric and twine. His heart pangs slightly as he examines it, nearly reaching out towards it.   
“Don’t touch that.” 

His hand stops and drops halfway there. “Wasn’t planning on it,” he mutters, looking towards where she’s glaring at him. 

His eyes move to just over her shoulder. There’s something gleaming, there; the wall’s lighter than the rest of them, and textured. He squints in the dying light, trying to see what the difference is. 

He takes half a step forward, and suddenly he realizes what he’s looking at. 

_I stopped counting,_ she’d said. _The days. I still mark them._

“Kriffing hell,” he breathes, staring at the wall of marks. There have to be thousands of them, the ones towards the top smaller and more meticulously drawn than the rest. Then they start to slant, start to elongate. The appearance no longer mattered; it was a tracker, a way of keeping time, of holding onto hope. 

He turns back towards her. “Rey-“ 

He takes a step forward and runs right into a swath of fabric holding up spare parts. He hisses in pain as something heavy and metal slams against his forehead, and his hand flies to the skin. There’s no blood when he pulls his fingers away, but it hurts. A lot. He grimaces towards her, rubbing at the bump.

“They’re coming back,” she says, insistently, her arms crossed over her chest. No, he realizes, not crossed over her chest. They’re wrapped around herself protectively. 

“… yeah,” he mutters, hand still rubbing at his forehead. Apparently while he’d been gazing at the marks, one of them had brought the other crate in, stacking it with the other. 

“Yeah, they will,” he agrees, finally, ducking and stepping into the main living space. “They’ll come back, and they’ll fall in love with you, and take you someplace green, and you’ll have a family. And you can tell them about the time you rescued a droid that had part of a map leading to Luke Skywalker, ran into an ex-Stormtrooper, met Han Solo, and flew to the Resistance base and back again with a Wookie and an irredeemable asshole.” 

He can tell she’s trying not to smile, and failing miserably. Eventually she just gives up on trying, because in the low light of the setting sun he can see her soft smile. "I'll tell them," she replies. "I'll tell them about Poe, too."

He lets himself grin at that; the expression drops a mere few seconds later. “Take care of yourself, all right?” he mutters. “Promise me that, whether you go off with them or someone else or stay here.” 

“What have I been doing for the past, what, fourteen years?” she asks, jokingly, and he offers her a lopsided grin. 

“Stay safe, kid,” he says, nodding at her. “Was good knowing you.” 

She doesn’t say anything, arms still wrapped around herself. He eventually gives up standing there awkwardly and waiting for a response, because he steps out of the AT-AT. Chewie’s waiting outside, and roars, questioning. 

“She’s staying,” Ben says. “She’s got a family to wait for.” He jerks his head towards the Falcon. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

The Wookie growls, annoyed, before stepping back inside the walker. He has to duck significantly, and Ben can hear Rey’s soft laughter as Chewie tries to fold himself into the old battle droid. Ben turns, about to call his uncle back, when he sees through the small entrance the Wookie’s arms wrapped around the scavenger, hugging her tightly. Her arms are wrapped around his torso as well, her face against his chest. 

Ben bites his lip before turning and walking back towards the Falcon. It doesn’t take long for his uncle to catch up with him, the Wookie’s long strides making it easier. 

Chewie roars again. 

“Yeah, I know,” Ben mutters. “But she doesn’t want to. So I won’t force her.” 

The walk back to the Falcon is silent after that, the only sound around them the soft hissing of the sand shifting around their feet. Chewie lowers the ramp and Ben nearly rushes to the cockpit, eager for a distraction from the heavy feeling in his chest. 

He knew her for a day, he reminds himself. A single damned day. 

He preps the engines with a little more force than strictly necessary, even reaching across to the copilot’s sometimes just to give himself something to focus on. Chewie growls, annoyed. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Ben apologizes, prepping for takeoff. It only takes a few moments before the ship’s ready to go. It hovers, sand billowing from the force before he takes off. 

He’s grateful he unknowingly landed so that he can’t see the AT-AT walker as they fly above the sand dunes, heading into the atmosphere with a speed he hasn’t flown at in years. 

Chewie barks again, and Ben huffs. 

“We’re going to Takodana, and that’s final,” the smuggler mutters, prepping the hyperdrive. 

The Wookie growls, reaching back to grab the jacket that Rey had abandoned. 

“No,” Ben insists. “I’m not going back to give it to her, and I'm not going back to get her, either.” 

His uncle gives one more growl before settling back into the copilots, arms crossed over his furry chest. 

Ben reaches to set their course for Takodana, glancing over at his uncle and rolling his eyes. 

“Pout all you want, furball, she made her choice.” He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "We'll just have to deal with it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm Satan, I'm sorry!


	8. Jakku

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger, loves! This one's a little bit of a shorter chapter as well, a partner to the last one. Thanks for hanging in there! <3

He doesn’t even make it out of the system. 

They’re passing the outer edge of the Western Reaches when he reaches over and abruptly pulls the ship out of lightspeed. Chewie roars in surprise when they nearly jerk forward, Ben catching himself from sprawling across the console just barely. 

As soon as he pushes himself back up, he’s priming the ship to turn around and return to lightspeed – this time back towards Jakku. His hands are a flurry of motion, turning the ship around and prepping everything again.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters, reaching over Chewie to do it himself. “I shouldn’t have done that. I really should not have done that.” 

Chewie growls in question, tilting his head. 

“I shouldn’t have left her there, damn it!” he insists, glancing towards the Wookie. 

Chewie whines and shrugs, nodding to his ‘nephew’. 

“We’re going back,” Ben announces. “Prepping ship for lightspeed.” 

He can hear his uncle chuckling softly beside him, and turns to glare at the Wookie. “Shut up,” he mutters, cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s only because they’re not coming back. You know damn well they’re not. If they aren’t, I might as well.” He reaches for the hyperdrive and slams it, the Falcon off like a shot towards the desert planet. 

“I swear, this is the last time I’m going to Jakku,” the smuggler mutters, setting course again. “I swear, you hear me?” 

Chewie just shakes his head, still chuckling. 

-

The sun’s set in the 40 minutes they spent off planet. He struggles to find the outpost, the navigation system really the only thing helping him find his way. It’s not like there are land marks; and if there were any to begin with, it’s entirely likely the First Order destroyed them in their pursuit of the Falcon. 

Either that, or he did it himself. He winces when he remembers knocking into the large archway, probably tilting it over into the sand. Not to mention the outpost itself, with its fallen roof and broken stalls. 

“Stay on the ship, I’ll deal with her,” he mutters once he’s managed to land somewhat near the AT-AT. He goes to reach for the jacket, before stopping midway. No; if she says no, if she insists upon staying despite everything, the jacket won’t do her a damn bit of good. He frowns at himself, before walking back towards the cargo bay. He jams his fist against one of the cargo panels along the wall, pulling out a comm unit and a radio and tucking them into the pockets of his pants. He turns quickly, nearly tripping over himself in his hurry to get down the ramp. 

Chewie roars behind him, and he turns to see the Wookie standing at the top. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try my best, okay? No promises,” he calls back, stepping down ontothe sand and immediately squinting in an attempt to find his way.

It’s dark, the moon of the planet not quite bright enough to illuminate his way fully. He can only continue walking – no, more like stumbling, and very clumsily at that - towards the large, looming shape of the AT-AT and hope he can find the entrance quietly. 

Apparently hoping isn’t quite enough. The closer he gets to the fallen walker, the harder it is to see the contrast of its shadow and its form. It’s all just dark, so very dark, and he hisses loudly as his head suddenly collides with the entrance into the stomach of the fallen metal beast. He stumbles back slightly, hand finding where he’d hit his forehead for the second time today. He can’t see if he’s bleeding, can’t see anything at all. “Fu-“ 

The wind’s knocked out of him as he’s suddenly hit in the chest. He falls backwards onto the cold sand, sprawled out on his back. He doesn’t need light to know who it is. He can feel the end of her staff as it presses against his sternum, unforgiving. “You know,” he wheezes, trying to look up at her. “I’m all for girls on top, but I’m kind of tired of you pinning me to the ground with this thing.” 

He can’t see her face, but he can see some of her, at least. Her skin’s taken on a blue tone thanks to the night, though he can’t see much of it. She must’ve stripped, changed into sleepwear or something of the sort. He can see where her dark hair falls loose to her shoulders, curling slightly. What little light there is falls on her staff and her shoulders, and he can see a hint of her cheekbone, but that’s all. 

“Ben.” He hears her soft sigh of relief, the huff of irritation that follows directly afterwards, and then the pressure’s gone from his chest. He can hear the clank of the staff as she moves to rest it against the side of her home. It takes a bit of effort to push himself onto his elbows, the sand beneath him unsteady. “What are you doing here?” 

He moves to his feet with some difficulty. His head reels slightly from its collision with her entryway, but he manages to keep his balance well enough. “I, um…” He pulls the radio from his vest pocket, moving it in his hand. It takes a bit of fumbling in the darkness to find her hand, but he gets her wrist eventually and forces the metal into her palm. “You forgot this.” 

Her hand pulls away from his, and he can hear her move the radio over and over in her fingers. There’s a moment of silence before she replies, “This isn’t mine.” 

No, it isn’t hers, and she didn’t forget it, and he’s starting to think that this is a really, really stupid idea. “… no,” he admits, finally. “I just thought … you know, something to add to that shelf of yours, if you want to keep it. It’s an old radio. I don’t think the signal’s good anymore, but it has workable parts aside from that, if you want to play with it. But I know how much they go for on other planets, in shops, and if Unkar’s not stupid he’ll know what it is. You’ll get a good lot of portions from it. If you decide to trade it in, that is.” 

Jakku’s not a loud planet. He’s used to loud planets. He knows Coruscant and the Republic’s capital, and the ambient noise of D’Qar and all the Resistance life on it. Even Tatooine is louder than this junk hole. Right now, he loathes the silence as he waits for her response. He feels like an idiot, standing there in the sand and gazing in the general direction of some desert girl who couldn’t have been clearer in her decision that afternoon. He shuffles his feet, very nearly toppling over since it causes the sand to shift beneath his weight. 

“And, I, um, brought a comm unit, too,” he mutters finally after she gives him nothing in response, reaching through the darkness to find her other hand. He slips the unit into it, curling her small fingers around it. “Just in case you need anything, you know? If you want to, I don’t know, see some green sometime, just for a few hours, or-“ 

“You came back.” 

Of all the responses she could’ve given him, that wasn’t what he was expecting. He was waiting for a slap or a simple thank you or something along those lines. He wasn’t expecting the half-choked sound that’s barely words, and he definitely wasn’t expecting the softness of it. 

“Well, yeah,” he insists. “I couldn’t just …” He laughs awkwardly, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair nervously. He stops when he gets to his neck, fingers rubbing at the bump at the top of his spine. “I didn’t even get out of the system before we turned around. I couldn’t just leave you here, you know? Not when there’s the …” He stops, choosing his words carefully here, not wanting to have her raging at him again, “… the very, very slim possibility that they won’t come back.”

She’s quiet. He can barely see her, her form only just visible in the dark. He can pick out contours now that they’re closer. The curve of her nose, the slant of her cheek, the bow of her lips. 

“So,” he says, trying to find something else to say and failing absolutely miserably. “I just thought that, you know, if you need something - anything, and I mean anything, just -“

He doesn’t even get another word in before she’s throwing herself against him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. He can feel her shaking, can feel her face tucked into his shoulder. He’s frozen for a split second before he gives in and wraps his arms around her, bending to keep her feet in the sand so she isn’t hanging from him. Her skin's warm, almost shockingly so, like the sun of the planet somehow found its way into her. He wouldn't be surprised, honestly, if it had; it would explain the freckles on her cheeks and shoulders, certainly, and the warmth of her smile. 

It takes him a few seconds to realize that her shaking is erratic, jerky and heaving, and that she’s both laughing and crying at the same time. He can feel her tears soaking through his shirt, warm and wet as she leans against him. He's shit at comfort, and he knows it, so his only solution is to hold her tighter against him. 

“You’re an idiot,” she says, voice caught between a laugh and a sob. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he mutters against her shoulder, snorting in amusement. 

She laughs again, this time slightly less shaky. “You came back.” It’s muttered against his shoulder, her lips pressed to his shirt. 

“I told you – didn’t even make it out of the system. Gave Chewie a scare when I pulled right up out of lightspeed," he mutters back. 

He can feel her smiling against his shoulder, the shaking slowing slightly as her sobs calm. He moves his hand up and down her back as best as he can, surprised to feel that his hand covered the majority of her skin. He can feel her spine, the bones of her shoulders, perhaps a bit more prominent than they should be. He does it for a few more moments before his hand drops, and he pulls back. He still can't see her very well, but he knows where she is, at least. He accidentally brushes his nose against her cheek, and pulls back just a bit more, not wanting to scare her at how close they were. 

“You okay, kid?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” she replies, a little more than a sigh. “I’m just … you came back.” 

“You keep saying that,” he says, grinning. “Of course I did. I couldn’t just leave you here without any way of contacting us, you know.” 

She stills, her arms tightening around his neck. “Is that it?” she asks. “The comm unit and the radio? Is that what you came back for?” 

He’s glad it’s dark as hell, because he's pretty sure he can feel the tips of his ears flushing slightly. He turns away from her, slow to answer. “Well, I really came back for you, but I’ll understand if you, you know, don’t want to come with us.” He tightens his arms around her, not willing to let her go. “The offer for a job still stands, if you want to take it.” 

She’s silent, frozen in his arms, and he’s seriously starting to think that this was a horrible idea when she leans against him, her forehead pressing to his shoulder.   
“They’re not coming back, are they?” Her voice is surprisingly stable for what she's asking, and he mentally commends her for her strength. 

He closes his eyes, tucks her so that her head’s underneath his chin. “I don’t think so, kid," he mumbles, hand returning to rub at her back again. 

The breath she takes is slow, deep and shaky, and he can feel it against his chest. Then there’s a laugh. There’s no humor in it, and it breaks his heart slightly as she moves out of his arms and starts to wipe her eyes furiously. 

“I can’t believe I thought they would,” she hisses, nearly aggressive in the way she wipes her tears away. He can see her pushing the meat of her palm against her eyes, trying to stop the crying, and he reaches out to grab at her wrists before she bruises herself. 

“Hey, stop that,” he mutters, holding her hands still. “It’s not your fault for hoping, all right? Maker, never apologize for hoping for anything. Of all the things this galaxy desperately needs, hope is one of them. Better fuel prices is the other."

She laughs again, shaking her head, and he uses his grip on her wrists to tug her back into him. He hugs her with one arm this time, holding her to his side. “C’mon, let’s get your stuff,” he mutters. “You got a light?” 

She nods, and he walks towards the walker with her, his arm around her waist. She moves into it easily, while he has to duck significantly to avoid banging his head for the third time that day. She turns on a small light, the wires inside of it old and nearly dead but hanging on still. 

She grabs her clothes and passed them to him. He tucks them underneath his arm, waiting for the next thing. She pulls a piece of fabric down from the ceiling, emptying the parts out of it and instead putting the few contents of her shelf inside of it. He watches as she puts the small doll and the helmet into it, hesitating at the dried desert flowers on a nearby table. 

“There are plenty of flowers where we’re going,” he informs her. "You can collect as many as you want there." 

That seals it for her, and she leaves the dead flowers where they are, tying her meager belongings up into the makeshift sack. When she passes the marks on the wall, she stops. 

He walks up behind her, his hand finding its way to her shoulder. “You want to leave a note?” he offers, glancing down at her. 

“We don’t even know where we’re going,” she admits. 

“Yeah, but you know who you’re going with,” he replies with a shrug. 

She hesitates for a moment, before moving out from under his arm. “No,” she says simply before crawling out of the walker into the night. He waits as she grabs her staff from where it’s leaning against the side of the metal beast. Once she starts walking, he follows her wordlessly, watching as she casts a glance back towards the AT-AT every few dozen paces. 

“No more nasty portions,” he offers when she looks back again. 

She’s quiet, but he can feel her looking at him. 

“Clean clothes,” he tells her. “A working ship. A fresher. All the parts you want. And the best company you could possibly ask for.” 

She snorts at that, and he can just barely see her shaking her head in the dark. “Stop it, Solo.” 

“What? Just listing all the perks,” he says innocently, grinning even though she can’t see it. 

Chewie’s waiting at the top of the ramp when they approach the Falcon. He roars happily, opening his arms to the scavenger. Rey laughs, walking over to him and letting him embrace her. Ben watches from a distance, smiling to himself before walking up the ramp. 

“Yeah, yeah, hug it out, but we’ve gotta get going,” he says, clapping his uncle on the shoulder as he passes. “C’mon, in.” 

The Wookie growls in protest, but lets Rey go. She’s still smiling as she makes her way into the ship, following Ben as he makes his way to the cockpit. He puts her clothes in one of the passenger seats, and she puts her small sack of belongings on top, leaning her staff against the side. He’s prepping the ship when he sees her stop out of the corner of his eye, and he turns to watch her reach for the jacket. She pulls it back on before settling into the free passenger seat, directly behind him. 

He turns suddenly, straddling the seat with his arms crossed across the top of the headrest. “Are you sure about this, kid?” he questions warily. “I don’t want you regretting it and telling me to turn this ship around.” 

“You turned around,” she says, smile soft and teasing. 

He blinks, tilting his head with a shrug. “Eh, true. And you know I would if you asked. I'll take you back anytime you want to, if you ever change your mind. But I mean it. You really want to go with us?” 

“Yes.” 

It’s a lot more assertive than he’d been expecting, and the ferocity of it makes him grin. He shrugs again, turning around in the seat. Chewie comes back, slipping into the copilot’s and starting up his side. 

“All right, kid,” Ben says, starting up the engine. “Say goodbye to this junkyard of a planet. You’ve got a new home, now.” 

-

Takodana’s a little ways away, only about an hour and a half or so, so after he sets course he turns around in his chair to face her. She’s staring down at her hands, running her fingertips over bandage over the burn she’d gotten just a day ago. Maker, that’s strange to think about. It’s been a day, really, and now he has a new crewmember as well as a new mission. 

He leans forward, lacing his hands together and bracing his elbows on his knees. It brings him closer to her, their heads only a few inches apart. He watches her for another moment before asking, “What’re you thinking about?” and watching as she glances up at him, hands stilling. 

Her silence says it all, and he scoots forward, his knees brushing against hers. He reaches out to brush his fingers along her wrist, bringing her attention back up to him. “We’re going to take care of you, all right?” he says. “I mean it. Whatever you'll need, we'll get it." 

She’s quiet for a moment more, before she looks him in the eyes and says, “When I was little, I wished I would find a ship. I wanted to find a ship in working condition, and fix it up, and fly it out and find them myself.” 

“We can find them,” he offers. “I’m sure there are records somewhere. We can try when we get to Coruscant, or we could try Hosnian Prime. The base doesn’t have that information, but I’m sure the capital of the Republic does.” 

Her eyes fall from his. Her thumb runs across the bandage again. “… you said people come to Jakku to leave things that don’t work, or aren’t wanted.” 

Sithspit. “I was wrong.” 

“But what if you weren’t?” she demands, looking up at him again. Her brow is furrowed, mouth downturned into a frown as she stares at him, waiting for an answer he's not entirely sure he's ready to give.

So he doesn't give it. He just shrugs, leaning forward a bit more, and then muttering as if it's a conspiracy, “Then we can find them, slap them across the face, make some sort of rude gesture, get back on the Falcon, and fly wherever you want to.”

It’s worth it to hear her soft laugh, her nose crinkling slightly. He smiles back at her, watching as she shakes her head, hair falling around her face and framing her jaw. It looks nice down, and he wonders if she'll abandon her three-bunned style. He hopes not. He hopes she doesn't abandon her scavenger clothes, either. They suit her better than the standard issue Resistance clothes, though the addition of his jacket helped significantly. 

He glances down at her hand before jerking his head towards the lounge seat. “C’mon, that needs to be rebandaged,” he tells her, standing. "You went in the fresher with it, and it's probably all sandy from that hell of a planet, and that can't be comfortable." 

She stands as well, following him back. As he gets the med kit from the cabinet, he allows himself a smile she can't see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the reactions to the chapter were some of the best I've gotten! I know it was evil to drop that on you, but it was entirely worth it just to watch you all freak out! Seriously, thank you all for the awesome awesome comments. A lot of you are leaving very in depth, long ones, and I'm so so grateful for all of them.  
> There's one commenter in particular I always look forward to. Jinga, thank you so much for your absolutely wonderful words. You never ever fail to put a smile on my face, and you have no idea how much it means to me that you've left in depth, wonderfully kind comments on every chapter. You're absolutely fantastic, and I'm so incredibly lucky to have you as a reader.   
> There are several others that I know comment on every chapter as well, and you're the real MVPs. Welcome to the new readers, as well, who bothered to drop one saying that they were new and loving it. I hope I don't let you down!  
> Again, thanks so much, and I hope this sated some of your fears!


	9. Takodana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are, again, so incredibly amazing and I'm so lucky to have you as readers. Thanks again for commenting! We're back to the longer chapters now, and as you can tell from the title of the chapter, heading towards Takodana (as a lot of people are excited for, it seems!) Hope you enjoy!  
> Also, tech savvy music people: is there a way to make a playlist that isn't 8tracks? I have a Spotify playlist for this fic that I'd love to share, but I'm not sure what other platforms I could use since my Spotify is linked to my Facebook and I'd rather not have that accessible. I could try YouTube, or listing the tracks and making an edit on Tumblr? (url is stoptakingmyhandx). Would you all like that?

His memories of Takodana are dim things; snippets of a place he doesn’t really remember, faces he can’t bring names to. The last time he’d been there, it had been with his father, and he was small enough that he saw more legs than anything else and the top of his head didn’t even reach the bar counter. The scar he’d received from the visit is long faded; it’s barely a mark on the left side of his nose, roughly as long as his little finger nail and incredibly thin. He often forgets what side it’s on, honestly, when he's not looking in a mirror. He can’t remember how he’d gotten it, but he does remember his father’s fingers on his skin afterwards, the bacta cool and Han’s lips spilling curses like water as Ben sat with his feet dangling off of the holoboard. 

He can’t say if he’s happy to be revisiting the blur of green and blue from his memories, but he is happy to be going somewhere away from Jakku. 

And he’s incredibly happy she’s with him. 

“All right, move your Houjix to attack my Ghhhk.”

She glances up at him, concerned. “… did you just choke?” she asks. 

He snorts. “No, that’s the name of the piece.” He grins, pointing to her piece. “Move your blue horned thing to attack my green slimy thing.” 

She looks hesitant, but presses down to move her holomonster. It attacks Ben’s, the holo-version of Ghhhk guts exploding across the board. She grimaces at the sight, even as unrealistic as it looked. 

“There we go, now you just made a move,” he explains. “Since you defeated me, you get to attack again. You can use either the same piece, or choose a new one.”

She choses the same one, and uses it to attack his Grimtaash. His own holomonster smashes hers, and she watches with wide eyes as they reenact a life-like battle before her eyes. 

“Is this considered fun?” she asks. “Watching pretend creatures fight to the death?” 

“To a lot of people, yeah,” he explains with a shrug. “There are several clubs that compete.” 

“Really?” she asks, voice bordering on sarcasm. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” He jerks his head towards Chewie, who’s watching from his bunk. “This one wins nearly every single time.” 

Chewie roars. 

“Nearly!” Ben insists. “I’ve won five!” He holds up his hand, spreading his 5 fingers to make his point. “Five!”

The Wookie chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Five?” Rey asks, raising a dark brow at him. “You’ve won five times.” She doesn't exactly sound impressed, and Ben rolls his eyes. 

“It’s that or having him pissed off for the rest of the trip, and then some,” Ben mutters under his breath. “I let him win, more often than not.” 

Rey offers him a knowing smile before continuing to watch their pieces fight. The console in the cockpit starts beeping as Ben’s piece slams hers down, nearly crushing its opponents skull in the process. Ben slides out from the lounge seat, heating towards the cockpit. 

“Takodana in ten minutes,” he calls as Rey turns off the board and follows him to the cockpit. She slides into the passenger seat again, peering around Ben as they approach the green planet. Chewie walks in a moment later, making his way into the copilot’s seat. 

“Descending,” Ben mutters, pulling up out of lightspeed and approaching the planet at a lower speed. The planet’s dark, night having fallen during their trip. He just thanks the navigation system otherwise he’d never be able to find the castle in the low light.

The lights of the Falcon illuminate some of the wilderness as they enter the admosphere, light skimming the tops of the trees and the waves of the lakes. He hears Rey’s breath catch behind him as she sees the green, and he grins at her reaction. “It’ll get a lot better than this, sweetheart, once the sun's up,” he tells her as he enters the atmosphere. 

For once, she doesn’t protest at the pet name, instead reaching up to grip at the back of his seat as they move down.

Just for show, he dips along the small lake, letting the bottom of the ship skim the dark water as they soar along the banks. He feels her crouch behind him, holding onto the pilot’s seat as he turns the corner, edge of the ship clipping the small waves.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he asks, glancing back towards her before turning back to the quickly approaching castle in front of him. “You’ll see the green more tomorrow.”

“Beautiful,” she breathes as the lights shine in the reflection of the lake. Ben smiles as he nears the stone structure that’s Maz’s castle, slowing down significantly to avoid colliding with the other ships that are scattered around the grounds. 

It’s easier to land here, a clear landing spot without sinking sand to think about. He takes his time in landing it right, before lowering the ramp. 

Rey’s up and out of her seat before he’s even turned the engines off, running right towards the water just alongside the landing area. He laughs, grabbing his blaster and shoving it into his holster before following her. “Slow down, kid, we’ve got time!” he calls, Chewie following him as he steps off of the ramp. He walks down, grinning as he reaches up to close it. 

She’s standing near the edge of the landing spot, just inside the light the ship offers, her boots just barely brushing the vines and grass on the ground. She presses the toe of her boot against the green moss, smiling brightly when it springs right back. 

He watches her for a moment, arms crossed over his chest and hip cocked. Chewie stands next to him and roars softly, jerking his head towards the palace. Ben looks between the stone structure and his new crewmember, and nods. “Yeah, you’re right,” he mutters before calling, “Kid! We gotta go! We’ve got a map to finish!” 

She walks back reluctantly, the toes of her boots stained green from pressing against the lush greenery of the planet. “Sorry,” she breathes. “It’s just-“ 

“I know,” he replies. “It’s all new and exciting and we’ll see more later – after the sun rises, and after we’ve talked to Maz, all right?” 

She nods. “Right,” she says. “The map.” 

“The map,” Ben echoes before he starts walking, her at his side with Chewie right behind them. “I haven’t seen Maz in years,” he admits. “I’m just hoping she recognizes me.” 

Chewie roars behind him, and Ben looks back at his uncle. “Yeah, I know she’ll know Dad,” Ben mutters. “I’m not entirely whether that’s a good thing or not.” 

-

He vaguely remembers the entrance to the castle, his memory of it being him looking up at the large statue of the owner of the establishment. He doesn’t remember the flags, though, and frowns up at the fabric waving in the soft night breeze, illuminated by flaming torches alongside the stone walls. “Huh,” he says, glancing towards Chewie. “You remember those?” 

The Wookie nods, and Ben just shrugs. “Guess my memory isn’t as good as I thought,” he mumbles as he walks up the steps. Rey’s taking everything in, dark eyes slightly wary. 

“Don’t worry; Maz is a good character,” Ben assures her as they reach the door. It slides open for them, and he steps inside. “She’s helped my dad plenty of times, or so he says.” He steps down into the main hall, eyes roaming the room that’s absolutely bustling with activity despite the late hour. “Keep close, all right?” 

“I thought you said she was good?” Rey asks, frowning up at him. 

He pays her no mind as he scans the room once more, his brow furrowing as he recognizes a few faces from past jobs. “I didn’t say anyone else in this room was.”

Ben starts to make his way to the bar, Rey right behind him. He glances back once, in search of Chewie, but the Wookie’s gone off to do something on his own. It doesn’t matter; with that bowcaster and simple brute strength, Ben’s positive his uncle can handle himself. The smuggler slides onto one of the stools, Rey sliding into the one next to him. He looks down and, seeing that the stools aren’t bolted to the floor, reaches over and tugs her so that her shoulder’s right up against his bicep. She stares at him, obviously waiting for an explanation. He gives her none, just gesturing to the bartender. “Two whiskeys,” he says, glancing towards Rey. “And a water for her.” 

“Three whiskeys,” she demands, glaring at him. “Why did you pull me?” 

“So that I don’t have to move too far to protect you if things go south,” he mutters, crossing his arms across the bartop and looking around again. “There are some people here who don’t like my father. That means, just from association alone, they don’t like me.”

“I don’t need protecting,” she insists, and he looks at her, surprised.

“That’s what you got out of that?” he asks before the whiskeys are set down in front of him. He nods at the bartender, smirking as he passes one of the glasses to Rey. “You know, one of them was going to be for you.” 

She cradles the glass in her hands, looking down at it. “You’re serious?” she asks, and he snorts at how excited she sounds. 

“Yeah, you look like you could hold your drink,” he lies, putting the glass to his lips and taking a sip. It’s not Corellian, not by a long shot, and it actually makes him sputter slightly at how rank it is, but after the few days he’s had he needs something at least. And the whiskey he has is definitely ‘something’. 

She’s just about to take a sip from it before he reaches out and plucks the glass from her fingers. “Hey!” 

“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “It tastes like rust-stripper. Don’t want your first drinking experience to be this.” 

“It’s not my first,” she insists, and he turns to look at her skeptically. To his surprise, her face is entirely straight. “It really isn’t.” 

“Sure, kid,” he mutters, though he finds himself believing her as he takes a sip from the water instead. 

“Ben Solo!” 

He nearly does a spit take, Rey startling at his sudden jerk forward. Ben wipes the water spilling down his chin with his sleeve, turning to scan the room. “Aw, fuck,” he mutters, “Can’t go anywhere without someone wantin’ to-“ 

He spies the female lifeform half a second later, pushing her way through the crowd with Chewie in tow. She can’t be more than four feet tall, dressed comfortably with large goggles surrounding her eyes. He blinks. “Kill me?” he finishes as she comes to stand in front of him. 

The small female crosses her arms, looking up at him skeptically. “You haven’t stepped foot on this planet in over two decades, Ben Solo.”

He’s not entirely sure that to say to that, so he just offers, “I’ve been busy?” 

She raises her brow at him – or at least raises where her brow would be, if she had one. “You’ve grown.” 

“You did say it’s been over two decades,” he retorts. 

She turns to look up at Chewie. “A mouth like his father, hasn’t he?” she asks. The Wookie just growls and shrugs, nodding at her. 

Maz looks back to Ben, glancing towards Rey before jerking her head towards one of the rooms in the back. “Come. The Wookie says you need help with something highly important and highly classified.” 

Ben looks towards Rey. “That’s right,” he says slowly. 

The small figure snorts, shaking her head. “Why do I have the feeling it has something to do with a certain Skywalker?”

“Which one?” Ben asks dryly as he slides off of the barstool, reaching for his belt to pay. “We tend to fuck up often.”

“Don’t worry about the drinks,” Maz tells him. “The fact that you tried proves you’re better than your father.” 

Ben hesitates, but shrugs and reaches out his hand to help Rey down from the tall stool. She doesn’t take it, but she doesn’t protest at his hand moving to the small of her back to help her keep her balance. 

Maz leads them towards the back. The quiet that had fallen at the call of his name is long gone, filled with chatter and yelling and music. He keeps his hand on Rey at all times; brushing her elbow, touching her waist, grazing her fingers just to make sure she’s still there in the chaos. When they reach the back room, Maz turns to him and crosses her arms over her chest. “Your uncle,” she tells him. “I’m getting the feeling that this is about your uncle, and his whereabouts.”

Ben just grins, shaking his head. “You really are one of the wisest in the galaxy, like Dad said.” All right, so his father didn’t say that, and he’s never hear anyone else say it either, but he’s certainly no stranger to complimenting someone to get the information he wants. 

“Flattery won’t get you everywhere, Ben Solo,” Maz warns before her smile warms and she jerks her head towards the table. “But it’ll get you somewhere, at least. Sit.” 

Rey sits slowly, eyeing the fruit spread on the table. But she keeps her hands to herself and just takes it in, hesitant. 

“Eat,” Maz tells her, waving to her. “You look like you need it.” 

Ben watches as the scavenger immediately reaches for one of the purple pears and, upon recognizing it, draws her hand back before grabbing another fruit and curiously biting into it. 

Maz looks towards Ben. He can’t entirely discern her expression, but he’s pretty sure she’s smirking at him. “I’d expected you to be more like Han,” she admits. “But I believe you have more of your mother in you than the Wookie told me.” 

“What makes you think that?” he asks, frowning. 

“You offered to pay for your drinks,” she says, though it’s light and teasing. Her face shifts next, to a knowing smile. “And you are joining the fight instead of running away from it.” 

Rey stops midchew and swallows, frowning. “What fight?” 

Maz looks at her. “I am over a thousand years old, girl. I have seen evil take many forms. The Sith, the Empire, and now the First Order.” She glances back towards Ben. “We need to fight. All of us.” 

“That’s why we need Luke,” Ben insists, leaning forward. “We need his help. But we don’t know where he is.” 

“Chewie told me,” Maz replies. “I’m sorry to say that I can’t give you the information directly. Nothing I have here will be able to help you.” 

Ben sighs, raking his hand through his hair in frustration as Rey finishes the bite that she’d taken. “Do you know someone who can help?” she asks. 

“Perhaps,” Maz replies. “I know a few names, a few places. I can’t tell you how helpful they will be, but I can give them to you.” 

“Where?” Ben demands. “We’ll take what we can get.” 

“Coruscant,” Maz says immediately. 

“Coruscant?” Ben repeats, frowning. 

“Its population makes it easy for people to disappear,” Maz explains. “Especially people who no longer want to be associated with having been part of the Empire.”

“You’re telling me former members of the Empire are on Corscuant?” the smuggler questions. Rey just looks curious, watching intently as she grabs another fruit from the pile in front of her. 

“Hiding in plain sight,” Maz adds with a nod. “Though those should be your last resort.” 

“And what should be our first?” Rey asks. 

Maz looks towards her. “Tell me. Have you ever recovered a droid, scavenger?” 

The girl looks surprised for a moment, before Chewie growls. So he’d told Maz, Ben realizes. Rey immediately looks relieved, and nods simply. 

“Have you ever recovered a working one?” Maz asks. 

“Define ‘working’,” Rey replies. 

“Have you recovered information from any?” 

“Yes,” she says simply. “It’s how I learned binary.” 

Maz nods. “Then you have your answer.” 

“I don’t have mine,” Ben insists. “What about droids?” 

“Unless they are programed to have their memory wiped, much of their memory still resides somewhere in their systems. There is a man named Caine Burr on Coruscant who collects droids of all sorts and sells them in the underground market. I’m willing to bet he has a few Empire droids in his possession. Get on his good side, perhaps offer him a few credits and flash your name around, and he’ll be willing to help you locate a droid who has the information you need,” Maz explains. 

“Doesn’t he program battle droids, too?” Ben demands, familiar with the name and the business attached. 

“So I’ve heard,” Maz says dryly. “But he’s your best bet at information regarding the Empire’s database.” 

Ben looks towards Rey, who’s finished whatever fruit she had before and has started at a cluster of berries, putting two thumbnail sized blue orbs in her mouth at a time. She doesn’t look as interested in them, though; he frowns, slightly worried for her. The Rey he knows would be inhaling the berries, or at least savoring them slightly. He watches her for another moment before turning back to Maz. “What about the others?” he asks. 

“I can give you the names of commanding officers from the Empire who have gone into hiding,” Maz says. “But in the morning. Your girl looks ready to collapse.” 

“I’m not his girl,” Rey says at the exact moment Ben says, “She’s not mine,” and they glance at each other. 

Maz just hums. “There are rooms upstairs,” she says. “I’ll lead you to them. Will your Wookie be joining you?” 

Ben looks towards Chewie, who just shakes his furry head and roars that he’ll go guard the Falcon instead. Ben knows fully well that his uncle’s definition of ‘guard the Falcon’ means ‘pass out on his bunk’, but he doesn’t really care as he nods in agreement. “No, he’ll be staying on the Falcon.” 

“Then I’ll take you up before you have to carry her,” Maz says, standing from her seat. In all honesty, she isn’t much taller standing than she is sitting. “Come on, Solo.” 

Ben glances towards Rey, who’s yet again taken food to go. He snorts softly at the stack of fruit in her arms, and the half a melon cradled in the crook of her arm.  
He reaches forward, and she immediately backs up, eyes going wide. 

“I’m just taking the melon from you, all right?” he asks, taking the green fruit. “I’m not going to eat it or keep it from you, kid. You can have it as soon as we get back to the room. But you have enough to carry already.” 

She hesitates before offering a quiet, “Thank you,” and walks beside him as he follows Maz up a set of stairs, further into the castle. 

“I have many guests who prefer my rooms to their ships,” Maz explains as she swipes a card along one of the panels next to the door. “However, I only let people I trust stay in them.” 

“You trust us?” 

“I trust you more than your father,” Maz replies flatly. “So, yes.” 

Ben just laughs, shaking his head as he walks in. Rey lights up like a lumen globe when she sees that there’s more fruit on the main table, and walks inside to add her stash to the mix. Ben watches her fondly, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly as she sits and starts to figure out how to put her fruit in the bowl without the entire thing toppling. 

“Who is she?” 

“Rey,” Ben says simply, looking down at Maz. “Our newest crewmember.” 

“Chewie said,” Maz explains. “But who is she?” 

The smuggler looks back towards the scavenger. “I don’t think even she knows,” he mutters. 

The older female hums softly, watching her. “Chewie said you went back for her.” 

“I did,” he admits simply. He feels her pat his arm a moment later, and looks down to see her smiling knowingly up at him. 

“Take care of her. She is lonelier than you know,” Maz tells him, before jerking her head towards Chewie. “C’mon, Wookie. You look like you need a drink after spending, what, 30 years with this one?” 

His uncle roars in agreement. Before Ben can punch him on the shoulder, though, the Wookie winks and follows the small orange woman back down the stairs. 

Ben watches them go before stepping into the room, watching Rey. She’s succeeded in stacking her fruit with the others, and has moved towards the window. It’s little more than a slit, barely wider than her shoulders, but there’s no glass between them and the outside. Ben walks to stand next to her. He can just see over her head; the darkness of the planet doesn’t allow for much of a view. He can barely see any trees, and can only just judge the difference between the bank and the lake. “… what’re you looking at?” he mumbles. 

“I’m not looking at anything,” she says simply. “The air’s different here. Cleaner. It smells different, too, and it’s easier to breathe.” 

He hums softly, realizing what she’s saying a moment after she says it. “Must be really different from Jakku,” he mutters. 

“It is.” 

He realizes, a bit late, that she’s nearly swaying on her feet with how tired she is. He understands; he’s sure that if he sprawls out on the bed, he’ll be asleep in seconds. He takes her by the elbow and guides her to the bed. “C’mon, down you go,” he tells her. 

“I’m not tired,” she insists, frowning up at him in the darkness of the room. The light that’s been turned on is dim but warm, casting the entire room into stark shadow. He can see the lines of her lashes, exaggerated against her cheeks. 

“Kid, you’re swaying on your feet,” he tells her. “C’mon – boots off, belt off, butt on bed.” 

To his surprise, she obeys, sitting on the bed to pull her boots off. She unlatches her belt from her waist, offering it and the blaster she’d tucked inside of it to him. He takes it from her and walks to the table to set it down, and by the time he turns back around, she’s curled under the covers – a small, curled up lump beneath the blankets. He glances towards the table, looking for the seating surrounding it, and curses under his breath when he finds only chairs. 

He hears the rustle of the blankets, and turns to see her sitting up. “Something wrong?” 

“No couch,” he explains. “I can take the floor, if you want. I just need a pillow and one of the blankets.” 

She’s quiet for a moment, before she says, “Don’t be stupid. There’s plenty of room.” 

He stares, even as he toes his boots off. “You sure?” he asks, nearly falling over when his left one doesn’t come off all the way. “You’re okay with that?” 

“It’s better than you complaining about sore muscles tomorrow,” she tells him, and he can’t deny that as he unbuckles his belt and sets it with hers, reaching down to take both of their blasters off of the safety just in case they have intruders. He brings his back to the bed with him, setting it on the table just beside it. 

He slides under the covers, staying as close to the edge as possible. “I turned the safety off of our blasters,” he mutters as he tries to get comfortable. “Just in case.” 

“You think someone’s going to come in?” she asks. He can just barely see her worried frown in the darkness. Despite sharing the bed, she looks so far away. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “But I want us to be prepared in case. Yours is on the table, mine’s right next to me.” 

She says nothing in response to that, but she does scoot herself more in towards the middle. “… Solo, you’re practically falling off the bed,” she tells him. 

“I like sleeping this way,” he lies. 

He watches as she quirks an eyebrow at him, the corner of her mouth quirking up as well. “I thought you told Finn not to lie to women,” she says matter-of-factly, and he’s not entirely sure whether he wants to shoot her or not. 

He scoots just a bit closer so that he’s not hanging off of the edge. If he reaches out, he could probably touch her. It’s not ideal, but it’ll have to do. “Better, scavenger?” he asks, perhaps a bit more snappishly than he intended to. He adds a smirk, heart skipping a beat as she smirks right back. 

“Much better, smuggler,” she replies, and he watches as her eyes slip closed. He watches her for a few more moments, watching her chest rise and fall and the way a few strands of hair rise and fall with each breath. He lets himself watch her before letting his eyes slip closed, and reminding himself that she’s probably ten years his junior. And Finn likes her, besides, and the ex-Stormtrooper probably has a better chance than he ever, ever will.

\- 

His sleep isn’t easy, and sometime near sunrise, he finds himself slipping out of bed and making his way towards the fresher. She’s still asleep, curled into the covers, lips slightly parted as she dreams. He showers quickly, pulling his clothes back on and rubbing a towel at his damp hair before heading back down into the main hall. 

He’s entirely unsurprised to see Maz sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of some kind of juice with a datapad on the counter. “Morning,” he mutters, watching as a few lifeforms move about, getting ready for the day ahead and cleaning up from the night before. He narrowly avoids stepping on broken glass, sidestepping around it and approaching the small orange woman. 

“You didn’t sleep well,” she acknowledges, gesturing for another glass of juice. 

He slides onto the stool next to her and accepts it gratefully, taking a sip. It’s something he can’t quite recognize, but it’s nice all the same, sweet and sour and cold. He drinks half of it before shrugging and replying with a simple, “Not really.” 

“You know what’s ahead, then, and you worry,” she acknowledges. 

He sighs, running his hand through his damp hair and leaning heavily on the counter. “I know that once we find my uncle, things are going to turn to shit. It always does when there are more than two Skywalkers in the same solar system, let alone the same room.” 

“Did your father tell you that?” Maz asks, sounding incredibly amused. 

Ben just nods. 

“Be careful,” she tells him. “Though you go by Solo, at the end of the day, you are still a Skywalker.”

“Yeah, I know,” he mutters, fingers clenching against his scalp. “That’s what scares me.”

She just chuckles, reaching a small hand out to pat at his arm. “Find your uncle. That’s the first step to restoring peace to the galaxy. You have to figure out the other steps.” 

“… you just don’t know what’s going to happen past finding Luke, do you?” he asks, turning to smirk at her. 

“I have no idea,” she admits. “But I know finding Luke is the first thing you need to do.” He watches as she looks up, and then she jerks her chin towards the stairs. “Your scavenger is looking for you.” 

He sits up and turns to see Rey at the top of the steps, both her blaster and his in her hands. When she sees him she relaxes, tucking both into the straps on his jacket before walking down. He glances back to where Maz was, but finds another glass of juice instead. 

“You scared the Hutt out of me!” Rey hisses as she stalks towards him. 

“Sorry, I-OW!” he yelps as she punches him in the arm with a strength he honestly didn’t know she possessed. “What was that for?!” 

“I thought someone had taken you, or killed you, or something!” she insists. “I woke up and you were gone!” 

“Well, sorry I was thirsty, sweetheart,” he snaps, taking a glass of juice and sliding it towards her. “Here,” he says, more softly this time. “Try it, you’ll like it. It’s good. Fruity. I know you like fruity.” 

She takes the glass with a bit more force than perhaps intended, and he smirks as she takes a hesitant sip, waiting a moment before downing half the glass. “See?” he asks, chuckling. “Told you you’d like it.” He reaches up to brush the juice from her upper lip, wiping the residue on his pants. He doesn’t notice that she’s staring at him, wide eyed and open mouthed as he finishes his own juice and stands. “I need to tell Mom we’re going to Coruscant. If you want to take a shower with actual water, the fresher up there’s pretty nice. But if not, we should probably get going.” 

She stands as well, taking the glass with her. “I’m ready.” 

He looks down. “Kid, you don’t even have shoes.” 

She looks down as well, and he watches as the tops of her cheeks turn pink. Interestingly enough, the top of her chest flushes as well, and he smirks. “Well, I’m sorry for being worried about you!” she snaps, and he just laughs, shaking his head. He reaches out to pat her on the shoulder. 

"Sit and eat, kid. I'll be back with your shoes and our stuff, all right?" he asks. "Finish your juice, I'll be right back." 

She just nods, taking his half-finished glass and setting it next to hers for her to drink as well. He smirks softly at it before making his way back upstairs, exchanging glances with Maz on the way up. Her eyes are knowing, but he just averts his quickly as he takes the steps two at a time back up to their room.


	10. Takodana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader JonSnowWhite had the brilliant idea of writing from Rey's point of view at some point; seeing as Takodana's a pretty intense trip for her and I wanted to include it in this story, that suggestion really helped in my dilemma of "How do I write the whole lightsaber thing?"  
> Writing from Rey's point of view was fun; I probably won't do it often since I enjoy writing Ben so much more, but I might write her occasionally. Sorry for the switch, though!  
> You all are incredible with your comments, and they really helped me through a pretty awful week. I reread them a lot the past two days, and they made me feel significantly better. So thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Rey can count on one hand the amount of times she’s been taken care of. No, she thinks. That’s not true. Someone had to change her when she was small; someone had to feed her, teach her to talk and carry her before her feet touched the ground for the first time. She’s been taken care of before; she had to have been. However, during her time on Jakku, she can recall three, maybe four times when someone put her before themselves.

Now? Now she’s lost count of how many times he’s put her first over the past two days. 

He’s unlike anyone she’s ever met. She can’t exactly tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, yet. She likes to think that it’s good. 

With the smart mouth comes strong arms that have held her, pushed her behind him in blaster fights and tugged her along. With the arrogance comes a sort of patience, an understanding that this is entirely new to her – water showers, fresh fruit, a bed that isn’t made up of fabric hanging from sturdy pipes. He takes the time to explain, to protect, to offer what he can in exchange for what? Her company? She can’t be that great, she knows. The term ‘friend’ wasn’t exactly prevalent on her backwater planet. One had allies, maybe, but those were few, far between, and never stayed around long if they ever stayed at all. 

“Hey, kid, you want to use the fresher before we go?” 

Rey startles out of her thoughts, eyes finding him where he’s pulling his vest back on from where he’d left it on the back of one of the chairs. His blaster holster’s still on the table, waiting to be strapped to his thigh and waist. 

She glances towards the door that leads to the fresher. “Sonic?” she asks, looking towards him as he runs a hand through his dark hair, mussing it yet again. It falls back into place a mere moment later, much to his obvious annoyance. 

“Nah, water,” he replies. “I can wait, if you want to take one. Everyone’s getting up, now; maybe I can find another job downstairs, see if anyone needs anything taken to Coruscant for a few hundred credits or so.” 

Of course. She smiles wryly, nodding before heading into the fresher. The air’s still warm and damp from when he’d used it earlier that morning. She sheds his jacket, draping it across the counter before reaching for the hem of her shirt. 

“You need help turning it on, sweetheart?” 

That damn pet name again. Rey stops and turns with the shirt halfway up her torso, her arms crossed in front of her. “Is it like the other one?” she asks, raising a brow at him in question. 

“Kinda. Handle. You twist it left for cold, right for hot,” he explains, standing in the doorway. 

She pulls her shirt the rest of the way off, revealing her breast band. If he cares, he doesn’t show it, still watching her. “I think I can handle it,” she says, smirking as she folds her shirt and sets it on the counter next to his jacket. 

“… did you mean to make a terrible joke?” he asks with a snort. 

“What joke?” she asks, turning and frowning at him. 

“I-… you know what, never mind. I’ll be downstairs when you’re done,” he explains, waving his hand at her. “If you need something … I don’t know, just scream or something and, I’ll come running.” 

Part of her’s tempted to test it, as payback for scaring her that morning. She’d been somewhat looking forward to waking up next to him, seeing what he was like when he wasn’t smirking or smiling flirtatiously. Instead, she’d been left with long-cold sheets and an empty room, his clothes gone. So it might’ve been a little reckless to run out with two blasters she had no idea how to shoot and no shoes, but she’d been worried about the suddenly very real fear that he wasn’t coming back. 

She’d been left before, after all. In her mind, it wasn’t past the realm of possibility that he’d gone without her. 

“I’ll do that,” she finally replies. “Now get out.” 

He holds both hands up, backing out of the doorway. “As you wish,” he says, closing the door. She waits, hearing him walk around the room before finally leaving out the main door. She strips the rest of the Resistance clothes she’d been given, folding them before making her way into the shower. She turns the handle and nearly yelps at the cold water suddenly cascading down her bare back. She quickly turns it the other way, and sighs when it warms to a much more tolerable temperature. 

The bottles aren’t labeled, but she can recognize the consistency of them. Whatever's here smells a lot sweeter than what he’d had in his room, and she finds she likes it significantly better. Not that his was bad, far from. But she likes this one, and wonders if he knows what the smell is. She knows sun-baked metal, sand and dust, and sharp, pungent oil and fuel. The flowers she’d found and attempted to grow in the shade of her AT-AT held onto their scent for a few weeks before finally giving up and surrendering, like all did, to the sun and sand. She’d tried to remember the smell for months afterwards until it faded from her memory like it had faded from the blooms. 

Rey spends perhaps a bit too long beneath the rush of the water. The stream isn’t quite as strong as the one in Ben’s room, but it’s nice all the same, and she emerges with her skin tinged pink. She dresses quickly, her wet hair soaking the straps of the top she’d been given. She pulls his jacket on afterwards, glancing at herself in the mirror. She hadn’t actually seen it on her, having only put it on on the Falcon – the age of the ship left something to be desired when it came to shining, reflective surfaces. 

The leather’s definitely worn; she can see where the color’s worn away slightly due to wear and tear. It’s warm, and smells like him; the bottles in his shower mixed with something like sweat and sharp engine fuel. It fits her well enough, the shoulders just a bit too broad and the arms just a bit too long and the torso big, so she has to wonder about the last time he wore it. It wouldn’t fit him now, not at all. She doubts he could even fit his hand through the sleeve. He’d get it to the elbow, maybe, before struggling. 

She walks out to the main room to find her blaster and shoes on the bed. The rest of his things are gone. Rey isn’t surprised. She is surprised, though, to find that much of the fruit from the bowl is missing. A few bunches of berries, a pear and half a melon are all that’s left of the heap that had been there before. A quick glance towards the bed reveals that the dark fabric covering one of the pillows is gone, and in the privacy of the room she lets herself smile at the captain’s blatant stealing for her.

She shakes her head, pulling on her shoes and putting the blaster into her belt before walking out of the room. Downstairs, the main hall is in full swing; the band’s returned, playing slightly softer music for those who aren’t quite awake yet. It’s not as smoky as it had been last night, and she can see the room more clearly as she stops halfway on the steps. A quick glance around doesn’t help her find the captain of the Falcon; he must be on the other side, then. 

She moves to step down, and nearly falls down the stairs when she hears a cry. 

Her hand lashes out and finds the railing as she regains her footing on the step. And there it is; the cry again, now seemingly louder than before. Her head snaps up as she looks over the room. 

Nobody else seems to have heard it. Lifeforms are milling about, going about their morning and other less savory business, drinking even at the early hour. They don’t even look up, don’t even glance about for the source of the sound. She frowns as she hears it again; it’s a child’s cry, a kind of pitiful wail that makes her heart and head hurt, and the tug in her chest intensify tenfold. 

The trip down the stairs is a slow, careful one. When the sound comes again, she rushes towards it, nearly running over some sort of green-skinned, three-eyed male in her haste. “Sorry,” she says quickly, not even bothering to look back at him as she moves towards the sound. At the fourth cry, she finds herself at the top of a set of stairs, winding down into some sort of basement. 

Her trip down the stairs is quicker this time, significantly less careful as she moves down. “Hello?” she calls once she finds the bottom. 

It’s a dark place, a short corridor with doors on either side. Light filters from above; there must be grates, because they cast a grid pattern where there’s light. It smells old and somewhat musky, like the time her water supply tipped over in the AT-AT and left a lingering sour smell for a few days afterwards. 

The cry comes again, and she walks forward; it’s towards the end of the corridor, coming from the last left door. It sounds desperate, and she quickens her steps in order to get to the door. She stops when she sees the red light on the access panel; of course it’s locked, why would it be unlocked for her? She’s half a thought from ramming her shoulder against the door when the access panel suddenly beeps, blinks, and changes to green, the door sliding open to reveal some sort of storage unit. 

It’s with hesitant steps that she walks forward, eyes shifting around the room. The sour, damp smell from before only intensifies as she walks in, a testament to the age of whatever’s in the room. 

_“NO!”_

She jolts, gaze darting to her right. There’s no one there, absolutely no one. Her gaze falls on a chest, and whatever tug she’d felt in her chest before feels like an outright pull now. 

It’s not locked. There’s a place on the latch for one, but the metal pulls up easily, as does the lid. She glances inside with some hesitation, not exactly sure what she should be looking for. 

She’s seen converters. She’s seen power lines and generators and compensators and dozens and dozens of other metal parts from ships and speeders alike. None, absolutely none of them look like the metal hilt she’s looking at now. 

The tug that was once in her chest flows through to her hand, and she finds herself reaching for it before she can really contemplate what she’s doing.

“Rey?” 

Her fingers brush the cool metal just as she hears Ben’s call, and she gasps as it fades away and she’s shrouded in darkness. 

She’s on a ship, suddenly, once she regains her balance. It’s not like any ship she’s ever seen, glowing blue and brilliant around her. It’s not the Falcon; no, it’s too perfect, too impersonal. She turns quickly, spotting a doorway at the end of the corridor, and takes off running towards it. 

_“No!”_

The cry, again. She runs faster before she trips over something and it all comes crumbling down. She ducks out of the way, gasping and nearly inhaling the dust on the ground as she stares up at a cloaked figure. The hand that emerges isn’t human; she can see the gleam of flames on the metal fingers as they reach towards an R2 unit, blue and white with its lights flashing, scared. 

A blaster shot rings out behind her and she looks up just in time to see a man in a black uniform falling towards her. She rolls out of the way only half a moment before he hits the ground, dead. 

_“Rey!”_

She can hear Ben again, and turns her head in an attempt to find him as the world around her spins and changes once again. The water falling around her stings her eyes, soaks her clothes; it falls in sheets, and she can just barely see the blaster bolts firing around her. She steps forward, towards the figure closest to her; she knows those broad shoulders, that height. “Be-“

Pain erupts on her left side and she nearly falls to her knees as the world spins again, thrusting her into sunlight and sand she knows all too well by now. 

_“No! Come back!”_

There’s the cry again, and she clutches her hand to her side as she turns to see what she can only assume is her, Unkar Plutt’s meaty hand on her small arm as she cries out again. _“NO!”_

She can hear the firing of engines and turns, the pain in her side suddenly disappearing as she watches the small shuttle fly off; she knows she should be on it, she shouldn’t have been left behind, shouldn’t have been abandoned. 

_“Rey-”_

She spins on her feet, eyes darting towards the owner of the voice. It’s not Ben; Ben’s voice is deeper, softer. But she can see him, Ben, standing a little ways away. She steps back at the look on his face; she’s seen it once, on a scavenger a few years younger than she, when they witnessed another scavenger step too close to a TIE fighter, the ship exploding thanks to its power systems overheating and the disturbance of the explosive chemicals around it. It’s absolute horror, his skin tinged blue from the light around him. He stumbles back nearly as quickly as she, his hand reaching for the blaster at his hip. _“Rey, don’t-“_

She trips over something behind her and falls to the floor. The cool stone of the castle on Takodana yanks her back from the vision, and she nearly chokes in an attempt to catch her breath. Her head feels like it’s about to explode, her heart like it’s going to pound right out from her ribs . She scrambles backwards away from the now closed chest, fingers fumbling across the stone floor. 

_“These are your first steps.”_

There’s someone else in the room with her. Her eyes snap towards the stairs, and she watches, chest still heaving as Maz hurries towards her. 

“What was that?” It’s barely words. She almost chokes on them as the fall from her lips. “I shouldn’t have gone in there, but I heard crying and-“ 

“That lightsaber was Luke’s,” Maz explains, eyes wide behind her goggles. “And his father’s before him. And now, it calls to you.” 

She sounds awed. She sounds awed when she should be afraid, and Rey takes a step back, shaking her head. No, no, she can’t do this. She can’t touch that thing again, not now not ever. She takes a deep breath, but it only ends in half of a sob as she tries to keep the tears from streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t, I’m not…”

“You’re not what?” Maz asks gently. She takes hold of the goggles around her eyes, and pushes them up onto her head. Rey blinks away tears as the older female reaches for her hands, taking Rey’s calloused fingers into her grip. “I’m no Jedi, but I can feel the Force. And it is strong with you. You’ve felt it, I know.” Her voice is soft, comforting, but the painful tug in Rey’s chest doesn’t abide. “Leaving Jakku was the first step. You know they were never coming back.” 

Yes, she knows, but that doesn’t make it any easier. She lowers her eyes towards the stone floor, trying to ease the tightness in her throat. 

“But there’s someone who still could.” 

Her gaze returns to the small pirate in front of her. “Luke.”

Maz’s face reveals nothing, but she offers Rey a small smile as she jerks her head towards the chest. “Take the saber.” 

The overwhelming fear and dread she’d felt after she’d touched the weapon comes back like roaring water, and she shakes her head, struggling to her feet. “I’m not touching that thing again,” she snaps, voice cracking at the end. “I don’t want any part of that. We’re finding the rest of the map, that’s it. I don’t want a part of this.” 

She moves around Maz and rushes towards the stairs; she can hear the small woman try to say something after her, but it’s lost in the space between them. Rey takes the steps two at a time, nearly running towards the exit. 

“Rey!” 

She jolts as her wrist is grabbed, and she’s suddenly tugged back into a solid, warm chest. Ben’s hands are steadying on her shoulders as he turns her around gently, holding her in front of him as he stares at her. “Kid, what’s wrong? What happened? I’ve been calling for you for the past fifteen minutes – why are you crying?” 

“We need to go,” she insists, trying to step back. His grip on her is stronger, and she ends up being pulled closer to him as he tries to keep her from moving. “Ben, we need to leave, now.” 

“Now?” he asks, raising his brows at her. “Are you sure? I thought we could take a walk before we left, I could show you some of the green-“ 

She’s not entirely sure what sound comes from her throat, but it’s certainly not words. It takes all of her effort to take a deep, shuddery breath and not sob in front of him. He stops mid sentence, and then she’s being pulled into an embrace. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, grip tight as he brings her into his chest. “All right, sweetheart, we’re going. I just need to speak to Maz, and then we’ll be out of here, all right?” 

He’s warm and firm and comforting, and despite every single urge she has to pull back and run as far away as she possibly can, she presses her head to his chest, just trying to catch her breath and push back the fear that’s suddenly overwhelming. “Ben, I-“ 

“I know, sweetheart. Chewie’s waiting on the Falcon. Why don’t you head there, all right? Take your time on the way back, pick some flowers or something.” 

She freezes as there’s suddenly light pressure on the top of her head. It lingers for a few moments before pulling back, and she glances up at him. He’s looking for Maz, eyes moving around the room, and she’s left to stare up at his neck and stubbled jaw. He squeezes her shoulders once more before his arm drops back to his side. “I’ll find her and be there soon, all right? Go to the ship.” 

She nods and turns. She doesn’t mean to break out into a run, but it happens anyway, and she takes towards the door. Rey stops in the archway and glances towards where Ben once was, but he’s off now, walking towards the steps she’d come up from. A warning blooms in her throat, but she stifles it and turns instead, walking out to where the air smells sweet and fresh instead of dank and sour. 

-

He’s been calling her name for what seems like hours. He’d gone back to the room after failing at finding someone who needed something transported to Coruscant; he’d had plenty of other offers, and got the commlink codes of several potential clients, but those would have to wait until after they’d gotten to Coruscant. His next try had been the Falcon, where Chewie was already up and waiting for them. When the Wookie had shaken his head at Ben’s “Have you seen Rey?”, he’d sprinted back to the castle. 

After the perhaps dozenth call of her name, he’d seen her scrambling up the stairs, out of breath and tears streaming down her face. She’d taken off like a blaster shot as soon as the last step was cleared, heading right towards the exit. It was by sheer dumb luck and honed reflexes that he’d managed to catch her wrist. “Rey!”

She’s shaking. He tugs her back to his chest and grabs her shoulders, spinning her around so that she’s looking at him. He bends slightly, eyes level with hers as he asks, “Kid, what’s wrong? What happened? I’ve been calling for you for the past fifteen minutes – why are you crying?”

“We need to go.” It comes out choked, and she nearly pulls herself away violently. He tugs her right back, keeping her shoulders straight as he stares at her. “Ben, we need to leave, now.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Now?” he asks, frowning. Well, there goes his plans of a nice, leisurely walk around the castle. “Are you sure? I thought we could take a walk before we left, I could show you some of the green-“ he starts, but then she speaks. Or at least, she tries to. The sound that comes from her throat is inhuman and heartbreaking, and he can see the tears are still streaming down her cheeks. No, there’d be no walk today. They’d have time for that some other trip, maybe. 

“All right, sweetheart, we’re going,” he mutters, reaching to pull her into his chest. The endearment falls from his lips without a speck of amusement or snark in his tone. She’s still shaking as he keeps her close, tucking her into him. He rubs at her back, feeling her warmth through the leather jacket. “I just need to speak to Maz, and then we’ll be out of here, all right?” 

He feels her move closer, feels the press of her forehead against his chest. “Ben, I-“

“I know, sweetheart. Chewie’s waiting on the Falcon. Why don’t you head there, all right? Take your time on the way back, pick some flowers or something.” It’s a stupid suggestion, he knows, but it’s all he has. 

On instinct, he bends and presses his lips to the top of her still-damp hair. He keeps them there for a few moments, arm pulling her closer to him as his eyes move around the room, looking for the owner of the castle. He doesn’t find her immediately, and he pulls back, squeezing her shoulders as he says, “I’ll find her and be there soon, all right? Go to the ship.”

The scavenger doesn’t need to be told twice. He watches as she steps away from him, and then she’s running, nearly sprinting towards the exit of the castle. When she’s by the doorway, he turns and starts walking towards the steps that she’d gone down, frowning. What the kriffing hell was down there that scared her so damn badly? He’s careful as he walks down. In his exploration of the place while she was doing … whatever, he hadn’t come across any pits for creatures, so it couldn’t be that. Maz didn’t seem like the type to keep dangerous creatures in the castle anyway. 

The small pirate woman is standing in the middle of the short corridor when he reaches the bottom of the steps. “Maz!” 

She turns, and he breaks out into a run. “Rey, she-“ 

“She found Luke’s saber,” she explains, and he actually trips in his surprise. The coarse stones of the floor don’t help either, but he manages to regain his balance easily enough with a little bit of flailing and some quick-hopping.

“What?” he demands as soon as he's regained his footing. He stares down at her. “Uncle Luke’s?” 

She just nods, small legs carrying her towards a room off to the left. He follows, despite the sinking feeling that’s quickly developing in his stomach. 

“Your girl is strong with the Force,” she explains as she unlatches a chest and reaches into it. He watches as she grabs something, and then his breath catches in his throat as the weapon’s offered to him. “She’ll need this, eventually.” 

“Where did you get that?” he asks, reaching forward to take the weapon from her. 

Some stupidly small part of him is curious, wondering if maybe, just maybe, this item of undeniable connection to the Force and Jedi will be the key, the answer to his lack of Force sensitivity. He takes the weapon, and his miniscule hope of being extraordinary like his mother and uncle is immediately dashed. It’s just a weapon; it’s cool to the touch, and heavy in his hand, and he has no doubt that if he tried to use it he’d fail absolutely miserably. 

“Don’t you mean he’ll need it?” he mutters, examining it. “Luke?” 

“She’ll need it before he will,” Maz tells him, and he glances up to her. 

“You think she’s a Jedi?” he asks, breathless as he stares at her. 

“No one can simply be a Jedi,” she replies. “It takes years of skill and training. But she is strong with the Force. She needs guidance.” 

“Uncle.” 

Maz takes his hand and pushes it back. “Keep it for her.” 

He nods, reaching and latching it to his belt. He untucks his shirt and drapes the fabric over it, pulling his vest on top. “You said there were imperials hiding on Coruscant.” 

“Chewie has the names,” Maz explained. 

“Thank you,” he insists. “Thank you so much.” 

She just nods at him. “Go. Find your uncle.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, flashing her the best grin he can manage before turning and walking back up the stairs. A few ships must’ve come in during the exchange, or people have woken up, because he has to squeeze through the crowd. He keeps his hands on his blaster and Luke’s saber all the way to the door, casting a glance back towards the pirate who’s now making her way to the bar. She raises her hand in farewell. He lifts his back before starting to make the walk back to the Falcon. 

-

Chewie has the ramp lowered when he approaches. The Wookie roars a greeting, and Ben raises his hand in kind as he walks up. As soon as he’s in the ship, he pulls the lightsaber from his belt and walks to the bunks. Chewie growls after him, and roars in surprise when he sees the weapon in his nephew’s hand. 

“Don’t tell her I have it, all right?” Ben mutters, kneeling and tucking it under the mattress of his bunk. “I don’t know what the kriffing hell happened, but it scared her, and I don’t want her knowing, all right?” 

Chewie growls, tilting his head. 

“No, this is not lying, this is just not telling. There’s a difference,” Ben explains as he stands and brushes his knees off. He pushes past the Wookie, making his way towards the cockpit. 

He stops when he sees her, curled into the passenger seat directly behind him. In her lap she has a handful of flowers, pale yellow and white and deep red. He recognizes them, knows that they have a light, pretty scent to them, and that’s probably the reason she has one of the white ones to her nose. As he walks by to the pilot’s seat, he sees the pilot’s helmet on the opposite passenger seat. The helmet’s been flipped upside down to form a sort of basin, and inside are dozens of the flowers. No wonder the cockpit smelled sweet when he stepped inside. 

“You all right, kid?” he asks, kneeling beside the seat. 

“Fine,” she says tersely, eyes on the petals of the flower she’s spinning between her thumb and forefinger. “… what are these called?”

“Velanie flowers,” he explains softly. “They come in blue, too.” 

She just stares at the flowers in her hands, and he realizes she’s not going to say anything else or offer an explanation for her tears. So he just reaches over and pats her knee, making his way to the pilot’s seat and prepping for takeoff. While waiting, he reaches over to the radio to inform his mother of their plan. 

“Falcon to base,” he says into the radio. “Ben to General Organa. Takodana success.” He glances towards Rey, who’s watching him make the transmission. “…we have Rey with us,” he adds. “Next destination Coruscant. Will send message when landed. Over.” He pulls back, prepping the engines. “All right, kid, now that that’s done with, off to Coruscant.” 

Chewie walks into the cockpit, settling into the copilot’s seat. Ben looks back towards her and instead finds her standing beside him, looking out at the green. The flower’s still spinning between her fingers. 

“We’ll come back,” he tells her, quietly. He watches as she looks down at him, eyes unreadable. He can’t tell whether the tears in them are from before, or from the idea of never coming back to this green planet. “We’ll come back, kid, I promise. I’ll take you to every single green planet in the entire galaxy if you ask me to.” 

“Will you take me to every single green planet in the galaxy?” she asks, without missing a beat as she sits back into the passenger seat, and he barks a laugh as they exit the atmosphere and enter space again, the green and blue falling away behind them.

“Sure can, sweetheart,” he tells her as he prepares to make the jump to lightspeed with the push of a lever. “As soon as this Luke business is finished, you bet your little ass I’ll take you.”

He glances back to find her still playing with her flower, but he can just barely see her small smile before he turns back to direct them towards Coruscant.


	11. Coruscant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this was a hard one to hammer out. No idea where my inspiration went, but I'm hoping it comes back soon. I've been working on Satan Wears A Rolex more recently, but I have to admit I missed writing smuggler!Ben.  
> Again, thanks for all the support and comments! You all are truly incredible, and I'm so so lucky to have you. Thank you for reading. I had no idea people would like this AU as much as they do, and I'm honestly shocked that it's gotten the response that it has. Thank you for clicking on it, it means a lot. :)  
> Also! I've published a list of songs I write this fic to. You can find it here! -> http://stoptakingmyhandx.tumblr.com/post/142982002211/never-tell-me-the-odds-official-playlist-the-one  
> (since it's on my Spotify, and my Spotify account is connected to my Facebook, I didn't really want to publish that one so I just wrote the names of the songs)   
> The song Family Tree by Matthew West is particularly applicable, especially in this chapter ;)

He hasn’t been to Coruscant in months, and he has to admit he’s missed it. He likes the people, the lights, the speed that comes with the city. The vivacity of the planet lets him slip through the levels, move through the crowds and hide in plain sight. Except it’s not so much that he wants to hide as much as he wants to get lost, lose himself in the pulsing heartbeat of the entertainment district and the pounding of the heavier, seedier lower levels. 

More often than not he’ll drop his name, adopt a new one for the night. It doesn’t always work; people know him, from jobs or his features. But sometimes he’ll escape for a good week or two at a time, Chewie taking the Falcon back to the base for repairs as he spends his time with better booze than they have on the Falcon and the company of less savory people.

He does use his real name, though – sometimes. One of the better things about having a last name with such weight is that he can easily slip between the levels like water; he can fit in with the elite just as easily as he can fit in with the criminals, dropping ‘Solo’ on one and ‘Organa’ on the other. It’s a blessing, most of the time; he has the scars to prove when it’s been otherwise. 

He traces over one of them now with his thumb, the long line between his smallest and ring fingers on his left hand, on his palm. It blends in well enough with the natural lines, slightly discolored but almost as thin.

“Where did you get it?” 

“Hm?” 

He glances up from his position in the pilot’s seat to see Rey watching him. She’d long moved into the copilots as Chewie left to check the cargo bay to see if any of their orders were to be dropped off on Coruscant, the trip almost three hours in length. The flower’s now resting in her lap, slightly limp from the attention she’d given it. She nods to his hand, where his thumb’s stilled over the scar. He raises an eyebrow, holding his hand up to her. She nods again. 

“The scar? Coruscant,” he explains. “Bar fight on some of the lower levels.” 

She watches as he starts to rub at the scar again. “… and the one on your chest?” she asks. 

“Which one, kid?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at her. “There are plenty there.” 

Her fingers lift and brush against her own collarbone. He mirrors her movement and finds the scar that he’d shown Finn, and he smirks. 

“He told you about that, didn’t he?” he asks. She just continues watching him as he leans back in the pilot’s seat. “Did he tell you I told him not to lie to women?”

“Yes,” she replies simply, and he nods.

“This is why,” he says, pointing to the scar. 

“But how did you get it?” she demands. 

He runs his fingers over the mark as he explains, “I lied about who I was. I like to do that sometimes; you can probably guess why. But the girl I’d picked for the night didn’t much like that. I appreciate her practice of ‘always keep a weapon on you at all times’, but I’m not one for blades in the bedroom.” 

“How’d she figure it out?” Rey asks, frowning. 

He shrugs. “Someone recognized me, hated my father, found our room.” He looks back down to the scar on his hand, running the pad of his thumb over it again. “It’s not exactly a regular occurrence, but it happens often enough. I don’t really remember much after that; I’d had my fair share of whiskey. I do remember her stabbing me, vaguely, but I don’t remember how I got this one.” He moves his hand to his hair, pushing some of the strands up and out of the way to reveal a short scar just near his hairline, almost invisible now. “Woke up in a booth in some dirty cantina on Najiba, covered in broken glass and blood. Still not sure whether the majority of it was mine or not.” 

She looks disgusted, and he can understand why. It’s not exactly the prettiest story, or the most flattering in terms of his image. But it happened nonetheless, and she’d been the one to ask. 

He stands quickly, jerking his head towards the helmet full of flowers. “You want some water for them?” he asks. 

“Sure,” she says, and when he moves she follows him into the lounge. He grabs a water canteen from the galley before coming back, unscrewing the cap. The neck of the bottle is wide, and while the brushed and dented metal isn’t exactly the prettiest vase, it’ll do for now. 

He pours the water in, filling it just a quarter of the way, before offering the bottle to her. “Stick them in there, they’ll last longer,” he explains, and she takes the makeshift vase from him. She takes her time putting the blooms in the water, and he slides into the lounge beside her. He crosses his arms over the table and rests his chin on top of them, watching her as she puts as many of the flowers as she can into the vase. 

When the neck won’t give any more, she puts the leftovers back into the helmet. She twirls a red one between her fingers, watching as the color spins and blurs with speed before her eyes. Ben watches as well, somewhat mesmerized by the spinning bloom. “I can teach you how to make a crown,” he mumbles, just below normal speaking volume. 

The flower stops spinning. “What?” 

He shrugs as best as he can; it’s really just a short bump of his shoulders. “A crown. Mom used to make them for me when I was younger.” 

At least, he thinks she did. The memories are hazy, at best; he vaguely remembers crowns of blooms in between glowing lanterns and his parents dancing to the beat of a drum somewhere warm and wet and oh, so green. He thinks he remembers wearing one, his mother’s fingers twining the stems together and showing him how to once or twice. The details have faded with time, but he’s sure with muscle memory and sheer will he can make some semblance of the crowns that once rested on his dark head.

She takes the helmet and pushes it towards him. “Show me.” 

It’s not a request; it’s a demand. He smirks and sits up to pull the flowers from the helmet. He grabs three of the longest flowers, and starts to braid the stems together. They’re slightly stiff, so the blooms stick out a bit at odd angles, but they go together well enough. He adds another stem into the mix, large fingers struggling only slightly at making the crown. 

She’s watching with rapt interest, eyes focused on his hands as he attempts to braid the stems together. It would work better with vines, he thinks, and would look fuller with flowers that don’t just bloom at the end of the stem, but when he’s finished it doesn’t look half bad. A little limp, yeah, and perhaps a bit thin in terms of blooms, but he fixes that easily enough with tucking a few of the extra flowers in where it’s sparse. He shows it to her afterwards, dangling it from his fingers. His skin’s stained green from the stems, fingertips slightly sticky from managing the flowers. “Here, kid,” he says. 

She takes the crown gingerly from him, calloused fingers gentle with the blooms. He lays himself on the table again, crosses his arms and rests his chin on them, watching her through his lashes as she examines the construction of it. There aren’t quite enough flowers to make another one, not unless she wants to pull them out of the water canteen, so she just has to make due with the one for now. He observes as she sets it back down on the table, and smirks. 

“You put it on your head, sweetheart,” he informs her, tone perhaps a bit meaner than he intended. 

He really should’ve expected it. She sets the crown on his head with a bit more force than necessary, and he blinks as the flowers slip down his forehead, bringing his hair with it and covering his eyes. He tries to blow both of them out of the way with a quick huff, but they’re too heavy. 

Rey’s snickering across from him. He can’t see her very clearly, but he can hear her. “Beautiful,” she tells him sarcastically. 

“So you did learn humor on that wasteland of a planet,” he mutters, reaching around to push the crown up onto his head. He lets it sit there as he pushes his hair out of his eyes, smirking at her. He reaches up to remove it, and sets it on her head instead. He doesn’t plop it on top like she’d done for him. Instead, he takes his time, setting it just right. She hasn’t pulled her hair back into her three buns yet, letting her hair dry on her shoulders. He can still feel the dampness of it as he arranges the crown on her head so it doesn’t fall back or slip into her eyes. “There,” he says, pulling back once it sits the way he wants it to. “Beautiful.” 

He tries to echo her, to use the same exact sarcastic tone, but it comes out sounding genuine. He attempts to cover it up with a smirk, but the damage is done. She’s staring at him openly. Sithspit. 

He stands a bit too quickly, banging his knees on the underside of the table. He winces as he slides out, avoiding her eyes. “I’m gonna go check Chewie,” he mutters, nearly banging his hip on the edge of the table in his rush to move to the cargo hold. 

He doesn’t look back to see if she’s staring after him, and he busies himself with checking their cargo with Chewie. 

-

He does have a few deliveries to make, it turns out. Four different deliveries, weaponry and spices to crime bosses and the like. He grimaces as he recognizes the name of one of the Hutts, and almost crosses it out before he decides that the money’s more important. He’ll just have to deal with the disgusting being, its filthy club and criminal tendencies. He’ll leave Rey with Chewie for that one, he thinks. 

When he walks back to the cockpit from the cargo bay, he sees Rey still in the lounge, the flower crown sitting on the table in front of her. She looks up when he comes around the hallway. 

“We’ll be there in a little bit, kid,” he tells her, falling into the lounge beside her. “I have a few side jobs to take care of, and then we’re gonna go see Burr, all right?”

“What kind of side jobs?” she asks, pretty mouth turning down. 

“The kind of side jobs I don’t want you involved with,” he says, tone inferring that he’s not going to tell her much more. “You’ll stay at the apartment while I take care of them.” 

“And if I want to be involved?” she demands. 

This girl’s going to be the death of him, he’s nearly positive. Either that, or the death of her own self, and he certainly doesn’t want to assist in that. “Consider your dreams dashed,” he replies bluntly. “You’re not coming with me, and that’s final.” 

Damn her. Damn her and her big brown eyes and her furrowed dark brows and her pursed lips. Damn her. He’s fighting a losing battle, he knows. He knew when he told her she couldn’t go with him, honestly.

He caves in seconds, throwing his hands up just to be dramatic. “Fine, you want to get your hand blasted off in some back alley somewhere, by all means, come with me. But you stay by my side, and you carry two blasters and two power packs on you at all times.” He huffs, letting his head fall back so far his neck aches and pushing his fingers into his hair. “I’ll give you the other blaster and the power packs when we get to the spaceport.” 

Her smile is as bright as Jakku’s sun, and he tries to squelch the fondness that’s creeping into his chest. He remembers when his smile was maybe that bright, maybe that excited, maybe that hopeful. That was a long time ago, now. 

He takes the flower crown off of the table and plops it onto her head. “C’mon, kid – up for a game before we enter the system?” 

-

The Galactic City spaceport’s a hub of activity when they enter. Rey actually has to help him with the console as he lands, trying not to hit anything too crucial to the function of the port.

“Ben Organa-Solo,” Ben says as his identification when they go to land, throwing his mother’s name in there in hopes that security won’t be too harsh with them. Chewie’s already taken care of their cargo, shoving it under the smuggling spaces with some of Rey’s assistance. “Corellian YT-1300 light freighter.” 

They manage to land without any red flags raising, and Ben sighs in relief. He looks over at Rey, grinning brightly as she stares back at him with something like contempt. He’d earned it, honestly. 

The decent into the city had been a little more than chaotic. He’s used to navigating the skyscrapers and the narrow alcoves between buildings; Rey, however, seemed to be a little skeptical in his flying skills. Still, they didn’t destroy anything on their way down, and they entered the port to dock without any issues. 

Thankfully, no officers are waiting for them when they touch down. Though he might cause trouble in other, less populated systems, this system is one where he actively tries to keep his name relatively clean - relatively being the key word. 

They’ll get the deliveries later. With a bit of sheer dumb luck, his clients will arrange the transport from their own spaceports to their warehouses. Unlike his father, most of his clientele trust him enough to know that if he says he has the goods, he actually has them. 

He does bring blasters, though, tucked between his pants and his back and covered by his vest (the lightsaber’s hidden, in between his blasters, the hilt cool against his skin beneath his shirt). 

Rey turns and he hides her weapons for her beneath the jacket he’d given her, the leather hiding the end of the blaster well. He gives her two power packs to put in the pockets of the jacket, offering them to her with a raised brow. 

“You gonna take them, kid? Respect our deal?” he asks, and a moment later she’s pulling them from his palms, putting them where she can. The pockets in the Resistance pants don’t hold much, but they hold one pack well enough. The other is slipped into the pocket of his jacket, and he walks a bit awkwardly with his own blaster as they descend the ramp. She'd abandoned the flower crown on the game table with the rest of the flowers, with the assurance that they'll come back and pick them up once they get settled in the apartment. Ben looks back at the Wookie who's making to follow them.

“You staying, you coming?” Ben asks Chewie. 

His uncle shrugs with a roar. If Ben wants him to go, he’ll go, but he’s just as fine watching the cargo. 

It’s not a bad idea, but Ben also wants his uncle with them when they travel the lower, seedier levels. There’s also the issue of his parents’ apartment on the upper levels of the city; the apartment has room for all three of them, purchased for family visits to the city while his mother was pregnant with him. Chewie, of course, was included in the thinking; no way would his father travel anywhere without the Wookie at his side. Ben’s just grateful his mother accepted it as fact early on.

“All right, Chew, you’re with us. C’mon, I want to get there and set up a plan before we head out. We’ll do the deliveries after it gets dark; more activity to cover our tracks.” Ben jerks his head towards the exit of their docking bay, taking Rey’s elbow and leading her through the crowds of the spaceport. 

She doesn’t panic. No, it’s not exactly fear, but it’s something damn near close. Despite his hand on her elbow, she moves close to his side, brown eyes darting around the common spaces of the port. He glances down at her, and notices that her head’s moving constantly, taking everything and everyone in. 

There are more lifeforms than he can count here, bustling and going about their day. There’s the shrieking of ships overhead as they land, the announcements in a dozen galactic languages, and a million other sounds. It’s no wonder she’s overwhelmed – the kid’s unused to bodies of water, let alone cities. 

“Hey,” he says softly. When she doesn’t respond, he leans down, lips brushing just against the shell of her ear. “Hey, stay close, all right? I’ve got ya.” 

She does move closer, close enough that it makes sense to let go of her elbow. He drops his hand from her arm and slips it around her waist instead. She doesn’t protest as he makes his way through the halls of the port and out to the upper levels of the city. Chewie walks beside them, and Ben’s grateful he asked his uncle along; with the Wookie nearby, people give them a bit of a berth, and he can guide Rey just a bit easier with the extra space. 

In all honesty, outside isn’t much better in terms of congestion. Ben can’t remember off the top of his head just how many people occupy Coruscant, but he’s fairly certain that it’s the most populated planet in the galaxy. It’s a far cry from the little outpost she knows, and he can feel her tense beside him as she takes in the thousands of speeders carrying life forms around them. 

“Just stay close to me,” he mutters, trying for comforting as he guides her to where air taxi speeders are taking passengers to their destinations. “Mom and Dad have an apartment here. We’re going to go there, develop a base plan, and then take care of a few things. All right?” 

She’s still looking around in awe. “How is this even possible?” 

“I ask myself that question, too,” he admits, guiding her towards an air taxi. He makes it maybe sixteen steps before he hears it. 

“Hey, Solo!” 

His blood doesn’t quite run cold at the voice; no, the sensation is more like boiling, and he has to stamp down the irritation that’s blooming at the sound of his his best friend's voice.

He turns, finding the speaker quickly, and groans. “Dameron, why the kriffing hell aren’t you still in the medbay?” 

He can see that Poe’s shoulder’s still bandaged, that side of him under his jacket bulky and stiff. But the man’s grin is absolutely shit-eating, and his good arm waves at them from an airspeeder Ben recognizes as Han’s. 

A darker head pops up from the passenger seat, the man’s arms crossing and leaning on the transparisteel shield. Finn’s smile’s more sheepish as he stands next to Poe, who’s since crawled out of the speeder onto the platform where it’s parked. 

“Finn!” 

Rey breaks away from his side, his hand left hovering where her waist once was. He drops it awkwardly, watching as she pushes through the crowds to reach her friend. Ben takes his time, Chewie just behind him as he makes his way over to where the two are hugging and Poe’s standing with his hands in his pants pockets. 

“Wanna tell me how you got here before us?” Ben asks, crossing his arms over his chest as soon as he’s in front of Poe, looking down at his friend with one raised dark brow and a heavy frown. “And why you’re here at all?”

Poe nods to the Wookie. “Your transmission wasn’t the first we got.” 

Ben glances towards Chewie. “You told them?” 

“The General hadn’t heard from you in a while,” Poe explains. “She was getting worried, and decided to hail you on her own. Chewie was the one who responded and told us where you were going.”

Chewie shrugs and nods. 

“Doesn’t explain why you’re here when you should be in the medbay,” Ben mutters, glaring openly at the pilot.

Poe’s grin is cheeky. “General’s orders.”

“You mean you asked to go, and Mom’s practically in love with you so she agreed,” Ben grumbles as he runs his hand through his hair. “Unbelievable.” 

He looks over Ben’s shoulder to see Finn and Rey. The younger man is holding her close, large hands on her small arms as they talk animatedly. A few times, Rey’s gaze moves towards Ben, and he tries to ignore the skip-hop-jump his heartbeat does when it’s accompanied by a sweet smile. 

“Just following orders,” Poe says with a shrug of his good shoulder. “Your dad volunteered first.” 

“Hell no,” Ben replies simply. He can hear Chewie’s chuckle beside him, a strange honk of a noise that he knows by heart. “He’d screw it all up.” 

“The General’s thoughts exactly,” Poe admits before he jerks his head towards the speeder. “C’mon, we’re taking up precious parking space.” 

By the time he climbs into the air speeder, Rey’s already taken the space behind Finn, eyes bright and smile wide as Ben settles beside her, scooting close enough that their hips are brushing. It’s a good thing, too; Chewie takes up the remaining space in the back of the airspeeder and doesn’t leave much extra room. 

Ben, to free up just a bit of space, moves his right arm, the one closest to Rey, up and around. He rests it on the back of her seat, opening up some room between them. If she’s irritated at the gesture, she doesn’t show it, instead leaning forward to speak with Finn. 

“When did you get here?” she asks, bracing her hands on the back of the seat as Poe guides the speeder away from the platform and into the skylanes. 

“Honestly? Just a few hours before you,” Poe pipes. 

“The medbay didn’t want to let him go,” Finn offers. 

“I can understand why,” Ben grumbles. He can feel Rey next to him as she leans back, warm and much, much more at ease now that they’d run into the other two men. Ben’s grateful, too. Air taxis are usable, obviously, but he’d much prefer to ride in a speeder he knows well with a pilot he’s familiar with. 

He looks down at the worn seats of the speeder, remembering back when his feet didn’t even hit the bottom floor of it. His family didn’t spend much time in the city, moving around as the Republic regained its balance in the galaxy. Coruscant was, very briefly, the capital before it was decided that the Senate would move between planets instead of staying on one. When his mother and father moved, he moved, and so his early memories of the city are just filled with light and sound, his mother’s soft touches and important people’s legs as he was pushed through meetings and dinners and shown off as the resulting product of a princess and a “reformed” pirate. 

He doesn’t look back on those old memories kindly, preferring the soft, hazy ones with beating drums and flowers in his hair. 

Poe guides the speeder through the skylanes with ease, directing them towards the higher levels of the city, where the Republic’s senators and the higher-ups spend the majority of their time. The air is cleaner, here, filtered and actually breathable. Ben knows from experience that the same can’t be said for the lower levels. 

Rey’s head seems to be constantly turning, taking in the new world around her. “I’ve never seen so many speeders in one place,” she admits, voice nearly lost in the wind as Poe takes them upwards. 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Ben asks, watching the lines of speeders around them. 

He glances down to gauge her reaction, and finds that she’s no longer smiling. Instead, she looks slightly shaken at the idea of so much activity, and he scoots slightly closer to her. 

“Hey, it’s okay to be a little-“ he starts, but she turns and cuts him off with a look. 

“I’m fine,” she says, a bit snappishly, and he pulls back. 

“All right, all right,” he defends, holding the hand that isn’t on the back of her seat up in defense. “Just saying, I know it was a little overwhelming when I first came here.” 

It was a little more than overwhelming, if he can remember correctly. He vaguely remembers clutching his mother’s dress, her hand warm on his back as she guided him through the crowds. He remembers sitting on his father’s shoulders, too, the man’s fingers around his ankles at his mother’s insistence to keep him from toppling backwards.

“Everything’s so bright,” Finn breathes. “There’s so much going on, so many lifeforms!” 

“Over a trillion,” Poe explains, turning left and following the rest of the speeders. “He’s been freaking out since we got here.” 

Finn turns to look at Rey. “It’s incredible!” 

“Yeah, it is,” Rey says, but she doesn’t sound so convinced. 

-

The New Republic’s building is a large, towering thing, rebuilt and renovated over the years. Ben can’t remember what it was before; he knows the story, the history that’s shoved in the back of his mind. But compared to what else is in there, it’s not important, and he can’t bring himself to care that he doesn’t remember right away. 

Most higher-ups picked up and moved to wherever the New Republic declared it’s home for the time being, either on Hosnian Prime or Chandrila, but Ben knows that some of them still have apartments here for when they have off time. His parents are two of them. He knows for a fact that his mother hasn’t been here in perhaps over a decade; his father, he can’t say for certain. 

He takes advantage of the apartment when he doesn’t sleep out of the Millennium Falcon. It’s a nice place. Poe’s already been there; Ben remembers afternoons running with the smaller boy right behind him, their laughs echoing along the empty halls. So he isn’t surprised when Poe guides the speeder to the correct platform, the other man’s memories probably just as vibrant and happy as his. 

Poe helps Finn out with his good arm, offering his hand to the ex-Stormtrooper. Finn takes it, gratefully, and Ben watches the soft, easy smiles between them as they get their footing on the platform. Chewie steps out, and Ben’s left to help Rey from the speeder. This time, she does take his help, taking his hand with her small one and letting him pull her up onto the platform. He keeps his hand on her arm as she steps out. 

“I haven’t been here in years,” Poe says, laughing softly as they go to enter the building. “What was the last time we came here? When you were what, 18?” 

“Sounds about right,” Ben admits, gazing up at the skyscraper as the crew makes their way inside. Though there are droids and a few lifeforms milling about, the place is quiet. Their boots make a cacophony of clicks and clops on the vast floors, and he turns to watch the reaction of the two youngest. 

Rey’s staring at the giant space in complete and utter awe, steps slow as she takes everything in. Finn’s much the same, eyes travelling upwards as he takes in the glittering windows and the light spilling through them. It’s all filtered and artificial, Ben knows, but it’s pretty all the same. He takes long, purposeful strides towards the elevator. 

The General’s apparently given Poe the access card; it’s a good thing, too. Ben’s nearly positive he accidentally left his on the Falcon, what with Rey and the weapons and the like distracting him. The elevator takes them upwards, and though Chewie, Poe, Finn and Ben are used to the sudden dropping sensation, Rey is apparently very much not, and Ben hisses at her fingernails in his arm. “Kid, what’re you-“ 

She’s staring at the floor, wide-eyed, and he realizes that she’s probably never been on an elevator before. He bites his lip, but lets her grip at his arm – whatever helps, right? “It’s an elevator, kid. It takes you between floors.” 

The base on D’Qar has a few, but they’re mostly for transports and utilities. They didn’t use them when they were there, and so he’s not entirely surprised at her reaction to the new technology.

“It’s fine,” he assures her. “We’ll be there shortly.” 

The elevator stops smoothly, opening to reveal a short hallway. He knows this hallway, it’s cream colored walls and dark flooring. Poe walks forward first, striding down the hall to the door at the end of it. 

The door’s a bit scuffed, a dent in it from a memory long forgotten, but the story remains. If Ben can recall right, it involves a model of the Millennium Falcon, running, tripping, and colliding spectacularly. He smiles, not remembering the incident, but remembering his father’s laugh every time it’s told. 

The apartment’s a vast thing, neutral-toned in color, with rooms enough for his parents, himself, and two guests. The windows are permaglass instead of the more popular, regular glass; it was a safety precaution, installed back when the Republic didn’t have ‘New’ in front of it and people weren’t exactly pleased with his parents. Though it isn’t as clear as the glass the other buildings of Coruscant tend to use, it’ll stop a projectile much more easily. 

That little feature's useful when it comes to the business he and his father are in.

The place smells cleaner. Makes sense; he remembers he didn’t exactly leave it in the best shape the last time he was here. He wonders if the blood stains are still on the couch in the living area, or if those had been taken care of, too.

“Still looks exactly the same,” Poe says, grinning as he walks around the place. “Maker, I haven’t been here in years.” He frowns as he stands by some corner, by the door of what Ben knows to be his mother’s old office, transformed into another bedroom when she moved her holovids and datapads to D’Qar years ago. “… wasn’t there a statue here?” 

“Broke it,” Ben replies simply, walking towards the kitchen. 

Poe’s chuckle is short, and when Ben comes back with a glass of water, he sees Finn looking out the window while Rey trails her fingers across the long, circular couch that takes up the majority of the living area. 

“Welcome, I guess,” Ben explains after he takes a sip, grateful that the water doesn’t have the lingering metallic taste that the water canteens on the Falcon transfer. “This was my parents’ apartment before the New Republic started switching bases.” 

“Hasn’t changed at all,” Poe says, collapsing onto the couch. “Good memories here.” 

“What the kriffing hell are you remembering, then?” Ben demands, sitting as well and throwing a smirk towards the other man. 

Poe just grins back, looking over his shoulder to see Finn at the large windows that surround much of the living area. His smile flickers, falling a moment later. “Are you all right, Finn?” 

The ex-Stormtrooper turns, dark eyes wide as his face splits into a grin. “It’s ... a lot to take in."

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for the city type,” Ben admits, watching Rey out of the corner of his eye. She’s picking things up and putting them down, constantly, turning them over in her hands before hesitantly putting them back. They’re not important things, decoration if anything, but Ben’s fairly certain she’s judging what they might get her should she take them back to the metal stand in the middle of Niima Outpost. 

“I have some deliveries to make,” he says, glancing at Poe. 

The man just rolls his eyes. “Let me guess. Not exactly legal ones?” 

“You know me.” 

“I know you too well, Solo. Where?” 

“Lower levels, entertainment districts,” Ben explains. “Spices, mainly.” 

Poe groans, head falling into his hands. “Solo-“

“I don’t use them, I just deliver them,” Ben insists with a wave of his hand. 

“You’re selling spices?” Finn asks, turning to stare at him. 

“Not selling, delivering,” Ben clarifies. “People just pay me to transport them back and forth, that’s it.” He glances towards Poe. “What did Chewie tell you?” 

“That you have some business with a droid dealer,” Poe explains, moving to sit forward. He braces his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together. “Caine Burr.” 

“You know anything about him?” 

“Nothing,” Poe admits. “Who’re we dealing with?” 

“I have a general idea,” Ben explains as Rey walks to sit on the couch between the two men. Finn’s walked over and is leaning on the back of it, and when Rey sits she’s below and just to the right of the man’s elbow. “But I’ll get some more information tonight. I’m dropping it off at Grippa’s.” 

“The Hutt?” Poe asks. “Ben, you’ve got to be shitting me.” 

“Hey, I’m not stupid enough to haul rathtars,” Ben says, pointing his finger at Poe. 

“But you’re stupid enough to make a deal with a Hutt,” Poe mutters. “Unbelieveable.” 

“It’s good money,” Ben defends with a shrug. “Figure we can get some information once we’re there, too. Find out where Burr’s main hideout is, maybe find someone who has enough connections to get an audience with him. Play it up, pretend we’re interested in buying some kind of droid.” 

“We are interested in buying some kind of droid,” Rey says. “Aren’t we? Whichever one has the information we need?” 

“I’m not buying, sweetheart,” Ben explains. “I’m stealing. There’s a difference – as you demonstrated on Jakku.” 

She glares at him. He guesses it’s deserved as he looks back towards Poe. “We’ll head down as soon as night falls. You see an airspeeder bike with Dad’s speeder?” 

Poe nods. “It might need a kickstart. I don’t know how long it’s been since you used it.” 

“A few months,” Ben admits. “I’ll check on it before we leave. You take the speeder, I’ll take the bike. Take Finn, I’ll take Rey.” He looks towards Chewie. “You go with Poe and Finn.” 

The Wookie gives a sort of bark sound in agreement, nodding. 

“Why don’t you show Finn and Rey where the bedrooms are, big guy?” Ben asks, standing, pushing himself off of his elbows. “You take your room. You and Finn all right with sharing?” he asks, looking towards the pilot. 

“I’m fine with it,” Finn says, perhaps a bit too quickly, and Ben looks to him. As dark as the man’s skin is, his cheeks are darker. 

Poe’s smile is amiable and easy, and he nods. “Fine with me, too.” 

“Great. Rey’ll take mine,” Ben explains, nodding at Chewie. The Wookie nods and stands, Finn pushing himself off of the back of the couch and Rey standing as well. Chewie leads them around the corner, down to where the bedrooms are, and Poe stands, walking closer to where Ben is. He stops about a foot away, looking up at the smuggler.

“I’m guessing you have something you want to tell me?” Poe asks, raising one dark brow at his friend. “Considering you said you were dropping her off, and now she’s here.” The man smirks. “And wearing your jacket.” 

“Finn’s wearing yours,” Ben retorts, reaching behind his back. “But I'll tell you about that later. This is more important. Look what I got on Takodana.” 

The lightsaber’s warm from being against his skin, and he pulls it from where it’s between his pants and his back to extend it to Poe. The pilot stares at the piece of history, dark eyes blown wide in surprise. 

“You know, of all the things to pull from behind your back…” Poe mutters, reaching out for the weapon. “A lightsaber’s probably the most creative I’ve heard of.” 

“It’s my uncle’s,” Ben explains, watching as the pilot examines the weapon briefly before putting it back into Ben’s grasp. 

“Kriffing hell, Ben,” Poe breathes. “You’re not serious.” 

“I am,” Ben replies, looking down at the weapon in his hands. “Rey … Maz said she’ll need it more than my uncle does.” 

“You don’t think-?” Poe asks, frowning. 

“I don’t know what to think,” Ben admits, shaking his head. 

Poe’s silent for a moment, looking at the weapon in his friend’s hand. “Did you feel anything? When you touched it?” 

There it is. That little bit of hope in Poe’s voice that makes Ben’s heart hurt. The pilot knows, has been victim to Ben’s tantrums and sobbing sessions over not being ‘special’ like his mother or his uncle. He knows Ben’s frustration all to well, has seen him as he spanned from rage to simple anger to irritation and then eventually begrudging acceptance that he won’t be what he wants to be. It spans over the course of years, though his bouts of rage and overwhelming disappointment have all but disappeared as he matured and realized if it didn't happen when he was young, it won't ever. 

He turns the saber over in his hands, shaking his head. “Nothing.” 

Silence follows. And then it’s, “Kriff, I’m sorry, Ben.” 

Ben shrugs, trying to ignore the smarting behind his eyes. He tucks the saber against his hip and covers it with the fabric of his shirt. It’s a bit of an odd lump beneath the fabric, but he can pass it off as the barrel of a blaster well enough if a certain scavenger asks. “It’s nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing, Ben, do you know how many years you’ve-“ 

“It’s nothing.” The words are harsh, his chest feeling hollow as he feels the weight of the weapon against his hip. “Just don’t tell her I have it, all right? She’ll knock my head off if she knows. I don’t know what happened, but something scared the hell out of her, and I'm willing to bet that the saber was involved. So just don’t say anything.”

“I won’t,” Poe assures him, voice warm and steady. He reaches up to clap a hand onto Ben’s shoulder. Ben puts his hand on top of his friend’s, looking down at the man who’d helped him through so much. “Just let me know what you need, all right?” 

Ben smirks wryly at the other man. “I need you to go and lie down before you pass out, because you look like bantha shit right now.”

“I’m fine, really.” He’s not, Ben can tell. Whatever drugs they’d given him to keep the pain away are obviously wearing off, and the man’s pale. His smile’s even a bit shakey, a little hesitant despite it’s broadness. 

“Dameron, you’re an idiot,” Ben says, wrapping an arm around his friend’s waist and leading him down the hallway to the bedrooms. 

They run into Rey, who’s emerging from Ben’s room. She’s apparently abandoned the jacket inside, because her shoulders are bare. She stares at the two, at Poe relying on Ben, and the smuggler nods at her. 

“There’s a medkit in the kitchen, Chewie knows where it is. Mind fetching it for us, sweetheart? This one needs it,” he says, jerking his head towards the man who’s steadily letting more of his weight rely on Ben as the drugs wear off. 

The scavenger nods, walking around them and calling, “Chewie?” as she goes. 

Ben can feel Poe’s eyes on him. “Sweetheart?” he asks, and Ben can hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Shut up, Dameron, before I use the heavier sedatives,” Ben mutters, shaking his head as he gets Poe into the other bedroom. Finn’s waiting with open hands, having seen what happened in the hallway. “You got him?” Ben asks as Finn takes Poe’s weight from him. “I’ll be right back with the medkit, all right?” 

“Sweetheart?” Poe asks, again, grin threatening to take over his face. “Ben Solo, you bastard-“ 

“Shut him up, any way you can,” Ben tells Finn, who’s staring at him in complete and utter confusion as he turns and walks back towards the kitchen to help Rey find the medkit. On the way, he runs into Chewie, who’s holding the box. “Get him bacta and a sedative,” Ben instructs. “I want him well-rested before we go tonight, and I know he won’t sleep on his own; the man’s too stubborn.” 

Chewie’s response is a wry, “Sounds like someone else I know,” a series of chirs and roars. Ben rolls his eyes before continuing into the kitchen. 

Rey’s opening cabinet doors when he gets there, searching for something. When he comes around the corner, her eyes dart to him. “Cups?” she asks. 

She was in the right area, he has to give her that. He comes around, standing behind her, chest nearly pressed against her back as he reaches for the cabinet just above her head. She’s still as he reaches forward and grabs a cup for her, setting it down on the counter. “Sink’s there,” he explains, jerking his head towards the faucet. 

He moves away from her and leans against the counter as he watches her fill the glass. She walks back towards him and leans against the opposite counter, their feet next to each other as they brace themselves against the floor. She takes small sips of the clean water, watching him over the lip of the cup. 

He bites his lip, watching her as well. He crosses his arms over his chest, looking down at his feet and coughing a bit awkwardly. When he chances a glance back up at her, the glass is still at her lips, but she’s watching him with one dark brow raised, waiting for whatever he’s going to say. 

“… I’m not gonna ask what scared you, back on Takodana,” he tells her, voice more quiet and tender than he initially intended it to be. “But I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about it, all right? Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. We’ve got blasters, we’ve got one of the fastest ships in the galaxy, and we’ve got-“

“A Wookie with a bowcaster?” she finishes, giving him half of a smile. 

“… I was going to say me, but that works too.” He shrugs, smirking at her. 

She smiles softly, eyes returning to the glass. “… thank you.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he says, offering a smile in return before he reaches to get some of the Corellian whiskey he knows his father has hidden around here somewhere. 

“Don’t call me that.” 

This time, her voice is gentle and teasing, and he can tell she doesn’t mean a word of it. 

“All right, sweetheart.”

He grins as she smacks his arm with the back of her hand in response.


	12. Coruscant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on publishing two chapters tonight; who knows, that might still happen once I get my homework completed. But for now, here's one!  
> I know, I know, on Tumblr I promised a kiss in chapter 12. But it's happening next chapter, I promise. Cross my fingers, swear to any deity you want me to - it's gonna happen.  
> Thank you so much for the support through this little break of updates. I've been so into Satan Wears A Rolex lately, but I really want to get more into this fic. Here's to hoping updates come sooner!  
> Hope you enjoy!

The garage of the apartment’s just off to the left of it and down a flight of steps. Ben knows that’s where Poe found his father’s old speeder, and that’s where he keeps his air speederbike during his time away from the planet. 

It’s also where Finn finds him, about four hours after Poe’s taken care of. Ben’s under the bike, rewiring it almost entirely to kill time before the pilot wakes up and to make sure it won’t crap out on them in the middle of a skylane. 

It’s not the best model, sure; it was given to him by his father on his 16th birthday, and the man didn’t even pay for the Millennium Falcon. But it’s the one mode of transport he has that’s entirely his, so he loves it. It’s an old Imperial model with a new paint job, the aerodynamics better for his broader shoulders and the longer form better for his leg length. He can’t even remember the model number anymore; all he knows is that it works, and it works fairly well, as long as he gives it the attention it deserves every few months or so.

“Hey.” 

He hums as he hears Finn’s voice. “Hey, kid.”

“Is this the speeder bike?” 

“The one and only,” he says.

Ben hears him, the sound of the other man’s boots on the garage floor as Finn settles down near him, next to the toolbox. “What needed to be fixed?” 

“Technically, nothing,” he tells the ex-Stormtrooper. “But there’s always things that can be improved. Poe up yet?” 

“Not yet,” Finn says as Ben reaches up to continue fiddling with the wires. “Still passed out. Rey and Chewie are sitting with him.”

“Good.” He curses, “Kriffing hell!” as a wire sparks and hits the side of his thumb, immediately putting the grease-smudged skin in his mouth. It’s bitter as all get out, but his tongue soothes the burn, at least. 

“What happened?” Finn demands, and Ben wants to smile around his finger at the concern in the other man’s voice. Leave it to a Stormtrooper to care about other human beings. Ben never thought he’d see the day, honestly.

“Burned myself,” he mumbles around his thumb before he pulls it out and wipes it on his pants. “Damn wires acting up.” 

He needs a new bike. This one’s a piece of junk, no matter how fondly he looks upon it or fixes it up. But he can’t get rid of it, not just yet. She has a few more runs in her, a few more races along the skylanes in the early hours of the morning, when the lights of the city are at their brightest and his adrenaline at its highest. 

“I don’t know much about speeders. I’m sorry,” Finn offers apologetically.

“Nah, you’re fine, just hand me the bonding tape, the black stuff,” he tells Finn, reaching out his hand for it. His fingers close around the roll when Finn hands it to him. “Thank you.” He tapes the wires together and smooths it out so that they won’t unravel while flying, then adds another layer of tape for good measure before he rolls out from under the bike on the creeper.

Finn’s watching him from his position on the floor, his legs crossed in front of him as Ben pushes himself away from the bike.

“Hey, kid,” he greets, pushing the welder’s goggles up onto his forehead. His hair’s probably a mess with how often he’s run his hand through it in frustration, and just looking down he can see that his shirt’s covered in the grime that’s built up since he was last on the bike. As filtered as the air up on the higher levels is, the lower levels are a different story entirely, and often he finds that his bike comes back to the garage dirty from the pollution. 

Ben allows himself to look up at the other man for a moment, giving him a lazy smile as he reaches back to unbuckle the strap holding the goggles on his head. “What’re you doing down here?” 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Finn replies. 

“What about?” Ben asks, shaking his head as he pulls the goggles away and sets them back in the toolbox. He pushes himself into sitting up, sliding off of the creeper and pushing it so that it rolls away from them and the bike. He’ll put it away properly, later. For now, his back and arms are aching from being under the speeder. He glances at Finn, not surprised at all to find the other man watching him. “…. You all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” the other man insists, offering Ben what the smuggler knows to be a very nervous smile. He’s played enough games - card, drinking and otherwise - to know when a man’s so jumpy he’s trying not to shake in his boots. Finn looks to have passed that kind of nervous a while ago, shoulders tense and smile fake.

“What’s up, kid?” he asks, sitting up fully and grabbing a cloth from the toolbox. The fabric’s seen better days, certainly, but Ben finds a few clean corners and wipes his hands with it.

“I was just … wondering, you know, if you had any advice.” 

Ho, boy. Ben looks up, hands stilling as he stares at the ex-Stormtrooper. “Advice on what?” he asks slowly, almost warily. “You might not want to ask me for advice, kid. I’m not exactly known for good-advice-giving.” 

“Well, you gave me advice on women … I was wondering if you could give me some on men?” It’s painful, how awkward the other man seems, offering Ben a sheepish grin that has the smuggler blinking in confusion. 

“… kid, the advice I gave you on women was just to ensure that they don’t kill you,” he explains, turning and tossing the cloth back into the tool box. He goes to stand, pushing himself to his feet as he rethinks Finn’s words. 

It hits him like a blaster bolt, the younger man’s question clicking in his mind. And then he stops, still bent over slightly, and turns to look at the ex-Stormtrooper. Ben’s smirk is slow to emerge, but it comes. “… All right. Lemme ask you this.” He straightens, staring down at the man who’s still sitting on the floor and looking up at him with dark, scared eyes. Ben puts his hands on his hips, raising a brow at the man below him. 

“Are you asking for advice on men,” Ben asks, tilting his head. “Or are you asking for advice on Poe?”

There’s a moment of silence, and for a single heartbeat Ben’s scared that he’s fucked this up. It’s not a new feeling, not at all, but the ex-Stormtrooper’s staring at him like he’s the sun, and fuck, did he just screw himself over? Was Finn asking Ben on how to woo himself?  
And then the younger man seems to find his mental footing, and Finn’s giving Ben this relieved, easy smile that looks way too good on him. 

“Poe,” he says. “I’m asking for advice on Poe.” 

Thank the Maker. Ben reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, smirk turning into something a lot kinder. “All right, kid. Tell you what. We make it through this night alive, and I’ll give you all you need to know.” He offers his hand down to Finn, and the younger man takes it. Ben helps him up from the scuffed garage floor, and watches as the man’s face goes from that easy smile to a concerned frown. 

“What do you mean, make it through this night alive?” 

“Solo!” 

Ben looks up as Poe calls his name, letting go of Finn’s hand. He glances towards the trooper, who’s still looking at him with wide brown eyes.

“I mean that I have no idea what the kriffing hell is going to happen tonight,” Ben admits as he bends to close the toolbox, pulling it back up with him. “But if there’s one thing Dad taught me, it’s to prepare for the worst.” 

“And what’s the worst?” Finn asks as Ben walks to put the toolbox away, kicking the creeper to the side. 

“Wish I knew,” Ben admits as he walks towards the stairs. 

-

Poe’s sitting up with a glass of water when Ben strolls in. The smuggler has to admit his best friend looks significantly better. However, he also looks significantly pissed off. 

“Want to explain to me why you kriffing sedated me?” the pilot demands. Rey’s settled at the foot of the bed, her legs crossed and elbows braced on her knees as she watches Ben. 

The taller man leans against the wall the bed’s pushed up against, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking. “Because if I told you to sleep, you would’ve taken the speeder around the city just to spite me. You’re an awful patient, Dameron, admit it.” 

“So are you,” Poe says, but he takes another sip of water as he rolls his bad shoulder to test it. “Feels better, though.” 

“Admit it, then. I was right to sedate you.” 

The pilot just continues to drink until he’s sated, pulling his mouth away from the glass when there’s nothing left in it. He licks his lips, handing it to Rey whose hand is already outstretched for it. “When are we leaving?” 

“As soon as I put a clean shirt on, and you’re good enough to stand,” Ben replies. “Dizzy? Sick? Anything?” 

“Tired,” Poe admits. “But waking up.” 

“Good.” Ben looks towards Finn. “You got him?” 

The ex-Stormtrooper nods, watching the pilot as Rey scrambles off of the bed with a grace Ben guesses comes from an entire, lonely life of scrambling. “Great,” Ben says. “I’ll be right back.” He makes his way to his room, and he can’t bring himself to mind the way that Rey’s belt and jacket are on the bed, thrown there haphazardly with the weapons beside them. She’ll need a proper blaster belt, one with actual holsters, but that’s easily remedied. He’s sure he has one around here somewhere, from his younger years. 

He’s stripping his shirt when she walks in, the door sliding open with a soft ‘hiss’. If she’s bothered by the fact that he’s shirtless, she says nothing, instead moving towards the bed and pulling the jacket on. 

“You’re filthy,” she tells him, and he just shrugs as he grabs a clean shirt and tugs it over his head. 

“That’s what happens when you work on a decades-old speeder bike,” he replies, reaching into the closet and grabbing a dark coat. It’s longer than he’d like it to be, the bottom hem brushing against his calves, but it’s good for concealing weapons and that’s exactly what he’s doing. He tosses it on the bed to put on after he puts the blasters on his person. 

“Decades-old?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. “And we’re going to ride on it?” 

“It works just fine,” he insists. “I just fixed it up. Evidence.” He gestures to the grease and grime on his arms and face. “It’s fine, don’t worry.”  
She hums as he reaches further into his closet, digging into drawers before he comes up with a soft, dark brown leather holster belt. Like his, it has two holsters for blasters and buckles around the thigh for extra security. He’s near sure it’ll fit on her slender hips, but he’ll force another hole into the leather if needed. 

He walks back to her, holding the belt out. “C’mere, let’s see how it fits.” 

She takes it from him, wrapping it around her hips. It’s not quite big enough; though she’s slender, her hips are still wider than his. There’s enough leather, it just needs another hole for the buckle. 

“Test the legs?” he offers. She does so, reaching down to buckle the strap around her thigh. That works, at least. It’s just the hips. 

“Hold it,” he tells her as he kneels in front of her, grabbing the buckle and the end of the belt and pulling her closer. She nearly trips, not expecting to be tugged. 

“What’re you doing?” she demands, voice sharp as she stares down at him. 

He pays her no mind as he pulls the leather through the buckle, eyes focused steadily on the belt and mind trying desperately not to think about how close he is to her hips and the apex of her thighs. “Fixing it, sweetheart,” he replies, just as sharply as he sets the rod of the buckle against the leather. “Too tight, too loose?” 

She lifts her tank and her jacket to look down at his hands as he gauges the belt. “… tighter.” 

He obliges before pressing the metal against the leather and forcing it through. The leather’s old enough, soft enough, that it takes some force, but not much. Her hips jerk forward in his hands as he tugs the leather, and he keeps his eyes on the metal and leather to avoid spending longer in the fresher than he really should. By the time he’s finished, it’s not exactly a clean hole, but at least it’ll hold on her hips and not be too tight. He tucks the rest of it away before reaching for the straps that go around her thighs. Those work easily enough with the holes already provided, and to his surprise, she lets him tighten them around her thighs. 

“That work?” he asks, once he’s finished. He looks up at her as she nods, and he realizes that her hands had drifted to his shoulders. It probably happened while he was tugging her closer, he guesses; she grabbed onto him to keep her balance. Her fingertips are light on the shoulders of his jacket, and he finds his hands settling on her hips as he stares up at her. 

“I want you to promise me something, kid,” he tells her. She gives him no verbal response, but just looks at him, eyes wide and warm. 

He can feel her stark hipbones beneath his thumbs, can feel how thin she is under his hands. He’ll dwell on that later, he thinks, when he has the time to wince and cringe at the very thought of her on that junkyard of a backwater planet. Now’s not the time. 

“I want you to promise me, that if things go to bantha shit, you will find Poe and Finn. You will find Poe, and Finn, and Chewie, and take the Falcon and get the fuck off of this planet.” His hands tighten on her hips. His knees are aching, now, from being on them in front of her. “And if you can’t find any of them, I want you to save yourself.” 

“What about you?” she demands, and he can’t say he wasn’t expecting it. 

He just gives her the best grin he can manage. “I’ll figure something out.” 

He means, _I’ll find a way to make it back to you._

But that goes unsaid as he drops his hands from her hips and stands, pushing himself up from the floor. “I want you to promise me, kid. Promise me that you’ll take the Falcon and get yourself as far away from this as you possibly can.” 

“I-“ she starts, but there’s the smooth hiss of the door as Poe walks in. 

“When are we leaving?” the pilot asks, stopping when he sees the smuggler and the scavenger. “… sorry, am I interrupting something?” 

“Nope, nothing. We’re leaving as soon as I get the grease off of my face,” Ben announces, walking to the fresher and wetting a cloth. He scrubs at his skin until it’s clean – or at least good enough. He tosses the cloth onto the sink before walking out to find Rey’s already put the blasters in her holster. A glance at Poe shows that he has the Resistance’s regulation blaster on his hip, as well. 

“Does Finn have one?” Ben asks, grabbing his own weapons and slipping them into his holster. 

“Blaster? Yeah, still has the one you gave him,” Poe explains. “Chewie’s got the speeder. You’re taking the bike?” 

“Right.” 

He glances at Rey. Her attention’s not on him, thankfully, and he takes advantage of her distraction and slips the lightsaber between his belt and his pants on his left side, careful that the activation switch isn’t anywhere near touching anything that could hit it. He grabs his coat and shrugs it on, making sure the side covers the lightsaber. It’s a cold weight against his hip, and he’s way too aware of it as he walks forward. “C’mon, we gotta go.” He looks to Rey as she follows him out of the bedroom, Poe on his other side. “Got the power packs?” he asks, and she nods. “Good girl.” 

Finn’s standing with Chewie in the living room when they turn the corner. Ben glances towards Poe, who he knows will be the pilot of the speeder. 

“Krit’s Cantina, entertainment district on the lower levels. Chewie knows where we’re going, we’ve delivered there before.” He looks towards Rey. “Ever ridden on an air speederbike, sweetheart?” 

“I built my own speeder,” she replies matter-of-factly. 

“You did?” Poe asks, turning to stare at her. “You built your own speeder?” 

Her face splits into a smile, bright and beautiful, and Ben has to try to stamp on the fondness that’s blooming in his chest like the water plants on Dagobah his uncle told him about when he was barely to the man’s knee.

Ben shrugs. “Bit different than a speeder bike, but close enough. C’mon, you’re with me.” He nods to Poe. “Meet you there.”

“On it,” the pilot replies as Ben takes towards the stairs towards the garage, Rey at his heels. 

“All right, sweetheart, you sit behind me and wrap your arms around my waist, okay?” he asks, straddling the air speederbike. 

“… are you sure this is safe?” she questions, gently kicking at the metal and giving him a dubious look. 

“Honestly, I’m never really sure of anything anymore,” he admits as he straddles the bike and looks back at her. “But if you’re really worried, Dad’s speeder has an extra seat. You go with Poe, Finn, and Chewie, and I’ll meet up with you later.” 

Maybe it’s because she’s spiting him, or maybe it’s because he’s getting the feeling she’s just as reckless as he is, but she wordlessly slips behind him on the speeder bike and wraps her arms around his waist. She’s warm against him, legs aligning with his, and he looks down at where her fingers are tight on his coat. He smirks softly as she presses herself flush against his back. 

He starts the engine of the little bike and feels her arms tighten around him. “You’re not going to fall,” he mutters. “With so many speeders around, there’s a good chance you’ll fall onto one of them before you actually hit the lower levels. There’s no ground here.” 

“You say that like it’s supposed to be comforting,” she tells him, not sounding convinced in the slightest. 

“Well, that’s what I was going for,” he admits, shrugging as they take off. He jolts slightly at the speed of it; the wiring did something, at least. He grins into the wind as they take off towards the skylanes. 

Her arms are tight, nearly crushing around his middle, but he doesn’t protest as they dip downwards towards the lower levels. If that’s how she wants to keep herself safe, he’ll let her. But he is struggling to breathe, ever so slightly, and he’s entirely sure that one of his ribs is going to crack soon. 

“Calm down, sweetheart, you’re not going to fall,” he says quietly, just loud enough over the roar of the engine and the atmosphere around them for her to hear. It’s a much softer attempt at comfort, and more successful if the minor loosening of her grip is anything to go by.

He reaches one hand down off of the handlebars to squeeze her hands reassuringly. It’s a quick little action, since he needs two hands for driving, but it apparently helps her since she relaxes just a bit a moment after. He can breathe freely now, and feels her face lift from his back. He’s willing to bet that if he chances a look back, she’ll be looking around. The sky’s dark, now, the lights of the buildings illuminating the city around them. 

He moves towards the lower levels, the air getting thicker and sourer with each descent. Though she’s more relaxed as he turns through the buildings, she presses closer to him, her cheek resting against his shoulder blade as he maneuvers through the city. 

If he was alone, he might’ve gone a little faster. He might’ve whooped as he sped through the sky lanes, weaving through speeders and flashing grins at those who cursed at him. He might’ve let himself turn so quickly his shoulder’s parallel to the ground, he might’ve taken the sky like he took to space – speeding, spinning, and perhaps a bit stupid as he moves through the stars. 

But now? Now he feels her holding onto him, and slows down for the turn. Now he doesn’t go as fast as he’d like to, he doesn’t piss off as many civilians as he’s used to. Her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed to his shoulder blades. Well, he considers that a thrill enough. 

Krit’s Cantina’s brightly lit when they pull up to it, and it nearly hurts his eyes at its neon brightness. He guesses that the others aren’t there yet, since Poe probably couldn’t weave through the lanes as well as he could in the smaller air speederbike. He doesn’t doubt that the man could, but he doubts the pilot’s willingness to be reckless in a highly populated area. 

There’s no valet. No, valets are for the rich. Anyone coming to Krit’s Cantina is far from rich; or if they are rich, they're trying to forget the lifestyle that comes with it. He has to find a place for the bike himself this time, and so he puts it in one of the landing bays just to the side of the cantina. The spaces are small, and he’s grateful for the size of the bike as he guides it between two of the larger speeders. Rey’s off before he can even offer to help her; part of him’s starting to think he just shouldn’t, since she can do things all on her own. 

He climbs out of the small space, pressing his hand against the lightsaber to ensure that it’s still at his side. He can feel the weight of the blasters, and he glances towards Rey to make sure she has hers. Both are still on her hips, the holsters not entirely made for them but a good enough fit that they won’t go falling out should they need to make a run for it. 

“All right,” he mutters lowly as he steps up to her. He moves his hand to the small of her back, guiding her towards the neon-lit cantina. As far as color schemes go, it isn’t terrible. He’s seen the gaudy pink and blue lights of other cantinas, and the yellow and orange of this one isn’t awful. But it still makes his eyes hurt, and his brow string at the glare of them. “You stay close to me, all right? No wandering off. No walking away with anyone, no taking to anyone, no looking at anyone, you hear me?” 

“Why?” she asks simply, and he glances down at her. She’s pulled her hair back into the three buns, and the neon lights highlight the dark strands. Her face is cast mostly in shadow, and what is in the light is strangely colored. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” he replies lowly before guiding her towards the entrance. 

The smell of liquor and smoke hits him like a blaster bolt as they approach. There are several dozen lifeforms outside the entrance, either smoking or drinking or getting sick on the side. He grabs Rey around the waist and tugs her away just as a human’s promptly sick at the base of a lightpole. 

They squeeze past the entrance without any trouble. It’s when they’re just inside that a Rodian approaches them. 

“No weapons,” he says, and Ben recognizes him. Or at least, he thinks he does. The smuggler tilts his head in what he hopes looks like innocent confusion, and the Rodian points towards the blasters on Rey’s hips. 

“She’s with me,” Ben explains, grateful that his hand is still around her waist from guiding her through the entrance. “Tell Grippa that I’m here.”

The Rodian doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch, and Ben’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Tell Grippa,” he says, low and slow, “that Ben Solo is here with his shipment.” 

Though there’s a moment of wary hesitance, the Rodian does eventually turn and start walking. Ben stands with Rey, and chances a glance down at her. She’s taking in everything with wide eyes, and he honestly can’t tell whether she’s scared or worried or in awe or what. So he just squeezes her side gently. “You have cantinas on that junkyard, kid?” 

“Not like this,” she tells him. He can see the reflection of the neon lights in her eyes, and can feel her still beneath his hand. “Are they all like this?”

She doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t belong with smoke and spices and booze, her face lit by neon lights. She’s not like the girls dancing nearby, the ones he steadily avoids most nights but sometimes swaggers towards on others. He can tell everything about this city is making her nervous, twitchy and tense, the environment overwhelming and over-stimulating. Maz’s was busy; this is complete and utter chaos.

“We’ll be out of here soon, sweetheart, just need to tell him where to send his men and ask where we can find Burr,” he mumbles. 

The sound of a bottle breaking isn’t too out of the ordinary; if he had to guess, he’s sure that it happens every fifteen minutes or so, more likely more often. But it’s the roar of his uncle that causes him to turn, hand falling from Rey’s waist as he looks to see the Wookie holding on valiantly to his bowcaster as Poe tries to convince him to let go with calm words. Or, at least, they start out calm, but the pilot seems to be getting more agitated as the Wookie roars again. 

“They’re with me!” Ben yells to the Rodian at the door and the human helping him. “They're with me! La doth cay mi!” He jogs forward, pushing through a few people crowding the door to see what’s going on. “Youkesa, youkesa,” he eases. “La doth cay mi. Dobra Ben Solo.” 

His name works, thank the Maker, and the Rodian releases his grip on the Wookie’s bowcaster. 

“We won’t fire it in here,” Ben assures them. “They’re with me, all three of them.” 

The two ease off, and Ben’s incredibly grateful he managed to make his own name for himself instead of relying on his father’s. He’s almost entirely sure if he’d just said ‘Solo’, they would’ve had a shit storm on their hands. 

Poe jerks his arm from where another human had been holding onto him. “They saw the bowcaster and panicked.” 

“It’s okay, I should’ve thought about it,” Ben admits. He glances towards the lifeforms who had held his friends captive, but finds they’re already gone, the space replaced by new patrons just coming in. 

He looks towards Poe and Finn. The younger man’s looking around in awe, staring at every new lifeform with childlike curiosity and a bit of disgust, depending on who passes him. Ben smiles a bit, but turns when there’s a tap on his shoulder. 

“Grippa will see you,” the Rodian from before tells him, and Ben nods. 

“Right.” He turns to make sure Rey’s still beside him, and is relieved to find her right where he wants her to be. “C’mon, let’s go.”

The cantina’s crowded enough that he can’t call out to Finn and Poe, but he manages to catch Poe’s eye and nod at him. Poe, thankfully, seems to get the hint and elbows Finn. The ex-Stormtrooper starts as Poe starts leading him through the crowd. Chewie brings up the rear, bearing his teeth at the man who starts to offer a death stick to Finn. 

He really should’ve discussed that before hand, Ben realizes. He’s not entirely sure he’d be able to handle any of their party drugged-up. He’ll just have to keep an eye on Rey and hope Poe has Finn covered. 

The Rodian leads them to the back, where a set of steps takes them to the higher level of the club, where the balconies overviewing the entertainment are. It’s also where the owner of the cantina oversees the activity, hiding his sluggish, wrinkly body from the view of the patrons. The entire room is dark, illuminated only by the neon lights that run along the walls in straight lines. Ben can barely see through the smoke, and turns as Rey coughs at it. He reaches back to touch at her forearm, assuring himself that she’s right beside him. He glances back towards Finn and Poe; while Chewie’s always been with him for these interactions, he’s not sure if the guards flanking the room will stop the other two. It seems word’s spread, though, because they do nothing, large blasters still gripped tightly but fingers not near the trigger. 

“Whatever you do, don’t react,” Ben mumbles to Rey as they step towards the platform at the base of the large window overlooking the club. 

“Why?” she asks, but he stops and throws his arm to the side to stop her from moving forward. He hears Chewie’s low roar behind him, and glances to see the Wookie at his side with Finn to his right and Poe on the right side of the ex-Stormtrooper.

Ben gives the Hutt on the platform the biggest smile he can as Grippa turns, opening his arms to the smuggler. “Ben Solo!” 

No matter how many times he’s heard the Hutt’s voice, Ben’ll never not be surprised at the smoky gruffness of it, the creature’s windpipe destroyed by the spices he sells and the smoke he consumes. “Grippa,” Ben says, voice fake in its fondness. “It’s been too long."

“Uba doth bata cuewhie ai bakanu,” the Hutt says. You’re back earlier than expected. The creature tilts his head. “An uba gee koose pateessa?” And you’ve brought friends?

“Patrons, all of us, once this is dealt with,” the smuggler replies. Ben shrugs, hands slipping beneath his coat to grip at his blaster, just in case. Grippa’s not the most irritable of Hutts, or the most prone to fights, but one can’t be too careful. “Couldn’t stay away from your lovely establishment. I have your shipment. It’s on the Falcon, Galactic City spaceport. Think you can get your men there? I have some … other business to attend to.” He lowers his voice, offers the Hutt a smirk. It’s an attempt to play up his own importance, his influence. “Since I got here earlier, it’s the least you can do.” 

“Haku daee?” the Hutt asks. What bay? 

“I’ll tell you,” Ben says, “as soon as you agree to one more little thing.” He lifts his hand from his blaster to show the Hutt his fingers, thumb and forefinger barely apart. “Just a little thing, Grippa, I promise. And I keep my promises, don’t I?” 

The Hutt makes some sort of sound, a low growl that seems to vibrate the entire room and reverberate in Ben’s chest. Rey tenses beside him. Chewie doesn’t react, used to the Hutt and his noises. 

Ben takes the growl and Grippa’s lazy smile as a positive sound, and just smiles. “I need a bit of information on someone, need to know where I can find him. Where he lives, where he works, whatever. I just need to find him.” He shrugs. “I can offer a discount, for the next shipment. Three crates free.” 

“K'wanna,” the Hutt demands, and Ben resists the urge to wince at Grippa’s retort of ‘five’. Five’s the usual amount of crates he brings; he was pushing it at three. Five would be completely free, and he needs to pay for fuel prices and his trouble somehow. 

“Four,” Ben insists. “Four crates free, and you pay the fuel.” 

Grippa lifts one pudgy hand to his chin. Or what Ben assumes is his chin; one can never tell with Hutts – their entire torso appears to be made out of chins. Ben’s back straightens and he waits with bated breath when silence falls over the room. He casts a glance towards Chewie out of the corner of his eye, checking to make sure that the Wookie still has his bowcaster. To Ben’s relief, he does. While he doubts they’ll have to use it, it never hurts to flash a weapon a little. 

Finally, while Ben’s lungs are burning from holding his breath, Grippa just nods. “Coo woy uba dayan?” 

“Caine Burr,” Ben replies to the Hutt’s question of who he needs. “The droid dealer. Do you know where to find him?” 

While the Hutt doesn’t have eyebrows, Ben can see his forehead lift, giving off an expression of surprise. “Caine Burr?” 

“We just want to speak to him, maybe make a purchase or too,” Ben explains, shrugging nonchalantly. At least he hopes it looks nonchalant. “Can you tell us where to find him?” 

The Hutt’s laughter isn’t friendly, and Ben’s starting to feel like maybe this was an awful idea, that maybe they should’ve tried one of the Imperials hiding out instead. But then, in broken Basic, Grippa says, “Recycling sector. Factory 93, back left end.” 

The smuggler’s face splits into a grin. “Bay 8114,” he replies. “Payment?” 

Grippa opens his arms. “Jeejee caiot woy bu hhontmahh saptkhe ateema,” he replies, voice warmer than before. We can do the transfer right now. 

“Take 500 credits off for your trouble,” Ben tells him. Sure, it’ll mean dipping into his own savings for a bit, and maybe holding off on replacing a few of the Falcon’s parts for a month or so, but there’s a good possibility he can get his mother to write it off as an expense of the Resistance anyway. 

The Hutt’s laughter is booming, and makes Ben’s chest feel like it’s vibrating as he grins at the cantina owner. “Banba mee pateessa joniu. Yocola dah bu sae,” Grippa tells him, and Ben wants to laugh as well. He looks towards Chewie.

“Take Finn, Poe and Rey downstairs,” he says. “Drinks on the house.” He looks towards Poe. “Poe?” 

The pilot moves to his side, and Ben leans forward slightly. “Watch the drinks,” he mumbles. “Make sure they don’t take anything, make sure they’re not sold anything, make sure they’re not slipped anything.” 

“Don’t have to ask, Solo,” Poe tells him, stepping back as Chewie roars in agreement, having overheard. Ben offers his uncle a smile before looking at Rey. 

“I’ll be right down, okay? Stick with them while I handle this,” he explains. 

“I’m not leaving you,” she insists, and he blinks in confusion. 

“It’s fine, now, no one’s going to hurt you,” he replies. 

“I’m staying.” It sounds like an order, and he’s kind of taken aback by the sharpness of her voice. 

He stares, then turns, looking back towards Grippa. “She stays with me, the rest can go.” 

The Hutt just shrugs, hands open as Poe, Finn and Chewie make their way back down the stairs. Instead of a Rodian, like before, they’re guided by a pretty woman Ben recognizes as one of Grippa’s favorite dancers; if she’s not on stage, she’s by the Hutt’s side. The smuggler can’t remember her name, exactly, but he recognizes the thin blue outfit that leaves little to the imagination as she leads the other three of his group back down the stairs towards the cantina. 

“Coo doth bu chik?” the Hutt asks, and Ben turns back from watching his uncle and his friends go to look at the Hutt. 

Grippa’s large eyes aren’t on the smuggler. Ben follows his gaze, and finds that the Hutt’s staring at Rey. The scavenger’s staring back, chin lifted ever so slightly. 

Ben wants to smile at her little show of defiance, but when he glances towards the Hutt, he doesn’t like what he sees. The creature’s gaze is hungry, and Ben can see just a bit of Grippa’s slimy tongue. He resists the urge to grimace and instead offers the Hutt a smirk. 

“Mine,” he says simply. He can feel Rey’s eyes on him. “That’s all you need to know. Payment?” 

“Caiot ua sonla?” Grippa asks, and Ben’s anger flares just slightly at the Hutt’s question of ‘can she dance?’. He takes a step closer to Rey and puts his hand on the small of her back. She doesn’t protest, and instead leans closer, and he’s grateful that she’s playing along with him. 

“I won’t say it again, Grippa,” Ben says lowly. “She’s mine. I’m trading you the spices, not my crew. I want payment.” 

The Hutt makes some sort of low, irritated noise, and Ben has to clench the fear that he’s fucked the transaction up. And then Grippa nods, and says, with a wave of his fat hand, “Fa noa-a dah mee pankpa.” 

Ben straightens and nods at the Hutt's insistence that the cargo will be placed on the Falcon. The Resistance needs the weapons, the ammunition. They’re by no means poor, but it’s an easy way of payment in a galaxy where exchange rates are through the roof and nobody’s guaranteed to take anything. “200 power packs, and 30 Tenloss Disruptor rifles, and 1,400 New Republic credits. 100 credits off for the information.”

Though his mother hates them, the Resistance fighters liked the weapons. They like the accuracy and the power that came with them, and though they’re on the bigger side of blaster rifles, they’re easier to manage than some of the others Ben himself has held. They’re not exactly produced legally, though; the smuggler gets them through a few different sources, mainly on Coruscant. 

The Hutt just nods, and Ben offers the best grin that he can. “Let me know about the next shipment, all right? It might be a while before I can get it, but I’ll do my best.” 

Grippa offers a backhanded wave and a sound that isn’t exactly pleasant. Ben nearly gags at it, and Rey tucks her shoulder under his arm as he leads her back downstairs. As soon as they’re out of sight of the Hutt, she steps away from him. “I’m yours?” she demands.

“Sorry,” he apologizes immediately. “I didn’t want him offering to buy you, too. And I know damn well that he would’ve. He goes through dancers like drinkware here.” 

There’s the sound of glass breaking just a little ways away, and Ben gestures towards where the noise came from. “See?” 

“But I’m yours?” she demands, and he looks down to see her glaring at him, a small fury burning brighter than the Jakku sun. 

“No,” he admits. “You’re yours. You belong to yourself. I just said that so he’d back the krif off, all right?” He looks around the cantina, grateful for his height as he can see over most of the patrons. He sees the furry back of his uncle at a table a little ways away, and jerks his head towards it. “C’mon, I need a drink before I shoot someone.”

The bass of the cantina’s making his heartbeat feel twice as strong in his chest, and the lights are lower now. By the time he and Rey find the table that the rest of their little ragtag group has chosen, Ben can barely see his uncle’s back in the darkness. He can see the glowing blue of Finn’s drink, though, and he stares at it as he slides into the booth. Chewie takes up two seats, Finn on one side while Poe’s on Ben’s left with Rey on the smuggler’s right. 

“Do I want to know what he’s drinking?” Ben asks as Finn takes another sip. 

“Something sweet without too much alcohol,” Poe explains. “Relax, it’s the glass that has the light in it, not the drink. Some kind of novelty thing.” 

Finn seems content enough, sipping it through a clear straw. Poe has his own glass of Corellian ale, and Ben’s pretty sure he’ll order much the same, if they have time. As for Rey, he has no idea what she’d like. 

He can see the stage from here, how the lights are focused almost entirely on it. He’s seen his fair share of dances at the cantina, watching from the shadows as the girls Grippa ‘hired’ moved on the floor. He’d tried to take some to bed, once; he failed often, and succeeded rarely, but he’s not one for taking rejection harshly. He’d much rather watch from afar than get up close and touch, though he knows that many cantina patrons go the other route.

He can feel the lightsaber digging into his hip as he presses between Poe and Rey. The pilot slides the glass towards him, and Ben takes a grateful sip of the ale before sliding it back. “Thanks, I needed that,” he mutters. 

“Did he pay you?” Finn questions from the opposite side of the table.

“He will,” Ben replies, stretching his arm around the top of the booth. The leather’s worn and rough, cracked from the many patrons who’ve sat there before him. “He’s never backed out before, plus I gave him the discount for his trouble. We’ll be fine.” 

Poe just hums, taking another sip of his ale. Ben notices the new jacket, dark brown in color and simple in decoration. Finn still has the pilot’s original flight jacket, and Ben tries to hide a smirk. He says nothing as he turns to watch the stage and the three girls on top of it; two humans and a Twi’lek. Compared to some of the other things he’s seen on dancers in his way across the galaxy, they’re covered pretty well. Some of the backwater planet dancers aren’t as modest, and he’s grateful for the dancers he’s watching now. 

“Are they forced to do that?” 

Ben startles slightly at the question, and glances down to see Rey watching the dancers with curious eyes. He looks between her and the stage before shrugging. “I don’t think so,” he admits. “But I don’t know for sure.” 

“What are they doing?” 

“Dancing,” Poe pipes up.

The scavenger looks confused, and Ben’s heart aches to think that she’s never danced before. Or, if she has, she never knew what it was called. He can guess she did when she was little, but he’s not sure. 

“I’ll teach you,” he promises, bumping his arm against her shoulder. She turns her head to look up at him, and he offers her a smile. “When we’re through with this, I’ll take you to some of the upper levels and take you dancing, all right? Promise.” 

She seems sated with this, and looks back to watch the dancers. 

What Poe doesn’t finish, he drinks, and though Rey doesn’t ask for one, he also gets the feeling she doesn’t want one. She seems content to watch the dancers, watching the sheer fabric as it sways with their hips, watching their torsos move to the beat that’s pulsing through the club so hard Ben can feel it in his seat. When the glass is empty, he cradles it, watching with her. 

It’s Chewie’s roar, two songs in, that has Ben startling out of whatever trance the beat and booze has lulled him into. He’s not drunk, far from, but everything’s warmer now and just a bit more hopeful. 

“Right, we’ve gotta go,” he tells the other three. He bumps Rey’s hip with his and she slides out, making room for him and Poe to get out. “Grippa said the recycling sector. That’s on the Darkside. It’s not far from here, actually. We’re already halfway to the Underworld.”

“Want us to come with?” Poe asks as he slides out. 

“Backup would be nice,” Ben admits. “You up for it?” 

Poe grins, a kind of cocky grin that has one side of his mouth higher than the other and his eyes crinkling. It’s a grin Ben can recall from his earliest memories, back when they were two boys playing pretend with toy blasters, their stories involving Jedi and smugglers in a way that makes Ben wish they were kids again. “I’m up for anything.”

“Then let’s go.”

-

The air’s thicker here, even thicker than the air around the cantina. It’s like a fog, sour and all-consuming. It smells like burning and metal and sick, and he pulls his shirt up over his nose as he guides the speeder bike through the industrial sector. The recycling sector’s on the other side, and Ben wants to hit himself for not thinking of it first. 

It’s an out of the way sector; no authorities would bother with it unless something serious happens. He’s sure it’s also where much of the scrap metal goes. It’s perfect for Burr’s operations, the making and dealing of his battle droids. 

“You all right, kid?” he asks, not risking a glance back at her as he navigates his way through the factories and recycling plants. There are housing units smushed between them, and he pities those who live here. 

“Can’t breathe, but I’m fine,” she replies irritably. Her words are muffled, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know that she’s covering her nose and mouth as well. Though the air’s technically breathable, by health standards, it’s in no way pleasant. 

He veers towards the back left of the sector, and nearly gags at the fumes that make themselves known immediately. This can’t possibly be safe, he thinks as he turns a corner and heads down the line of numbers the factories offer. They’re bright, illuminated things, with what they’re producing in neon lights with the number below. Some of the bulbs are dead, others broken and leaving a 5 just a low curve, or a 4 a lopsided triangle. He’s not surprised, honestly; the lower sectors aren’t known for their niceness or cleanliness. 

93’s easy enough to find. It’s a large building, its lights bright and unbroken unlike some of the others. It’s not a smooth building; Ben can see the different levels, the first few wider than the second set. Steel pillars hold up the roof as the building gets slimmer. Ben’s grateful for the alcoves as he guides the speeder into one, near the top of the building and close to some of the windows. If needed, they’ll allow for a quick escape. 

He’s hoping to hell and back that they’re not needed. 

He parks the speeder and slides off, Rey coming off with him. He sees Poe parking their speeder on a nearby platform; what Ben assumes is the entrance to the warehouse. Crates are crowded on the bay, but Poe manages well enough. The platform’s not far away, just a slight drop and a catwalk away from them. He drops down, reaching his hands up to Rey to catch her. 

To his surprise, she allows him. He catches her around her waist and tugs her to him for balance. “You all right?” he questions, and she nods. 

“Fine, why?” 

“You’ve never…” he starts, before deciding that it’s stupid. It’s fine for her to accept his help or reject it; it means nothing, either way. “You know what, never mind. Let’s go.” 

He walks across the catwalk, feeling her just behind him as the walk isn’t big enough for the both of them to walk side by side. The other three wait for them, and Poe jerks his head towards the set of doors. 

“Looks like there’s a calling system,” he explains, pointing to the keypad near the door. There’s a port for delivery droids beneath it, and buttons for the other lifeforms. Ben keeps his hand on his right blaster as he walks over. 

He has no idea what to press, but the big red button seems like the best bet. He looks towards Poe, who just shrugs. Ben shrugs back, before reaching over and pressing the button. 

There’s a slight screeching noise that makes Ben wince, and then a voice on the other end. 

“Burr Droid Recycling and Repair. Delivery or drop-off?”

Ben resists the urge to frown at the crackling message. “Neither?” he offers, unsure if the man could actually hear him through the cruddy speaker. “Purchase?” 

There’s a pause, and Ben does frown this time, thumb still pressed against the button. It nearly blinds him when the light behind said button changes from a dull read to a bright green, and he steps back as the doors to the building open with creaks and thuds that suggest they’re in need of repair. Ben glances back towards the four behind him and shrugs. 

“Thought that was going to be a lot harder,” Poe admits as they step up to meet him. 

Chewie roars his agreement, tilting his head as he peers into the poorly lit hallway in front of them. Ben can just vaguely see a lift at the end of it, but starts towards it anyway. 

Their boots make thick, heavy, metallic ‘clunks’ on the floor of the hallway. 

“I know, me too,” Ben replies. “Which probably means it’s all going to go to shit later.”

-

They’re halfway down the long hallway to the lift when Finn stumbles. 

Ben turns at the hand grazing his shoulder, and stares at the ex-Stormtrooper as he regains his footing. “…. Y’all right?” he asks, frowning as Finn tries to right himself and offers a weak smile. “… kid, you’re sweating.” 

“I’m fine, just not …. Not feeling well,” the young man admits. 

Poe grabs Finn by the shoulder and turns him around, other hand reaching up to press against the man’s forehead. “You’re burning up,” he says, looking towards Ben. “He’s burning up.” 

“Lemme see,” Ben mutters, walking up and pressing his fingers to Finn’s pulse. Rey watches near his arm, obviously worried for her friend as Ben pries his eyes open and finds his pupils blown. “Shit. Did you watch the drink?” 

“As closely as I could,” Poe admits. “Is this your first time having alcohol?” 

“No,” Finn admits, breath shorter now.

Ben glances at Poe. “Take him back to the apartment. Make him throw up everything, if he doesn’t do it on his own. There’s an antidote kit with hyposprays in the medkit. Chewie knows where it is.” 

The Wookie roars in protest, wanting to go with his nephew. Ben points a finger at him. 

“No, I want you to take care of the both of them for me. If you really want to rip someone’s arm off, go back to Grippa and ask him why the hell someone was able to drug our friend.” 

It’s then that Finn’s knees give out on him, and Ben dives to catch the other man as he falls from Poe’s grip. The pilot hauls the ex-Stormtrooper up as well. Ben hisses at Finn’s grip on his arm as he holds him up. “Hell, kid, your skin’s like fire. Cool him down, throw him in the fresher, just get him the hyposprays and get him cooled down,” he directs. 

“Any idea what it could be?” Poe demands. 

“No kriffing clue,” Ben admits, shifting Finn’s weight to Chewie’s waiting arms. “Shit, I should’ve watched more closely.”

“I told you I would,” the pilot mutters. “Didn’t do a good job of it, apparently.” 

“We’ll meet up with you after we get the droid,” Ben insists. “Just take care of him, all right.” 

“On it.” Poe stands next to Finn as Chewie scoops him into his arms. Ben watches as the pilot runs a calloused hand over Finn’s forehead. “We’re going to take care of you, okay? I’m going to take care of you, Finn.” 

Ben watches as they head back towards the speeder, waiting until they’re past the doors before he curses loudly and runs his hand through his hair almost violently. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I should’ve known something was going to happen.” 

“It could’ve been the drink itself,” Rey insists from beside him. He glances towards her, momentarily having forgotten she was even there. “It could be an allergic reaction.” 

“No, it’s some kind of adrenaline thing,” he mutters. “Deathsticks, maybe, but I’ve never seen anyone have that kind of reaction to it.” He shrugs. “Maybe it is an allergic reaction, who knows?”

“The droid,” Rey reminds him, and he moves his gaze back to her. 

“Right,” he mutters, starting towards the lift again. “Right, droid.” He quickens his pace, nearly jogging to the lift. It has no doors, a simple platform that rises and falls. He glances around for any sort of panel, buttons for floors, anything, but finds nothing. “Guess it goes directly to where we need to go,” he admits as Rey steps on beside him. 

He’s nearly thrown to the floor at the jolt of the lift. It ascends with a deep, grating sound, and he winces as he can feel it grinding against the shaft, vibrating beneath his feet. Before long, they’re engulfed in the metal shaft, old yellowed lights in hollowed alcoves along it. The lack of light casts the smuggler and the scavenger in sharp contrast, and Ben watches Rey as the light flickers across her face. 

It’s nice, he thinks, to watch the little bits of her. Each one having their moment in the literal spotlight. Her small nose, her pretty lips, the curve of her dark brow. The light illuminates each in turn, and he’s left staring and admiring the little things he didn’t pay attention to before. Her lashes are dark, casting shadows on her cheeks when the light hits just right. 

If she realizes he’s staring, she doesn’t say anything, and for that he’s grateful. 

“All right, so we’ll ask about the droids, and then get out of here,” he tells her. “Good with you?” 

Whatever she’s about to stay stops as it’s coming out of her mouth when the lift stops extremely suddenly, and he almost loses his balance. He leans against the wall for support, only to have it wrenched from his hand as the lift goes plummeting downward.

Now he does fall to the floor, Rey falling as well with a hard ‘bang’ as her body hits the floor. Her shriek at the sudden drop echoes along the metal shaft, and he reaches out for her, finding her upper arm and tugging her to him. 

He doesn’t know lifts. He doesn’t know the physics of them, doesn’t know whether it’s better to lie on the floor or whether to be standing when it bottoms out. But he does what feels right, and that’s grabbing Rey and pulling her so that she’s against him. He curls around her as best as he can, protecting her from whatever the hell they’re in for as they continue to plummet downward. The hallway they’d come in from disappears in a blink, and he’s entirely sure that his stomach’s left up there with it. 

She’s shaking as they continue to fall, and he’s positive he is, too. But he just curls around her tighter, tucking her face into his chest and wrapping his arms around her as he braces for an impact that doesn’t seem to be coming. He moves himself so that he’s on top of her, should anything fall on top of them. 

He wants to scream, wants to cry, wants to something, but he has her in his arms, and so he feels like he can’t. So he just screws his eyes shut and prepares for the worst. 

_So this is what Dad meant as the worst. Dying in a lift in the recycling sector with a beautiful girl in my arms. Great._

As sudden as their drop was, their stop is a lot smoother. It starts out slow, the sides of the lift scraping against the shaft with a deafening grind. But it slows them down, at least, and for that Ben will take as many horrific sounds as possible if needed. He doesn’t loosen his grip on Rey as their fall slows enough that the lift isn’t grinding but is just groaning instead as it moves lower. He can’t judge how fast they’re going, just that it’s slower than before, and he thinks maybe they might get out alive. 

“Ben-“ she starts, and he’s moving his had to look at her when it stops. This time it’s surprising in it’s suddenness, but not heart-stopping, so he’ll take it. 

They lie there for another moment and a half. Ben’s heartbeat is roaring in his ears, and he’s near certain he can hear Rey’s too as they try to catch their breath and get their bearings. 

“… have we stopped?” she asks, voice small beneath him. 

“… I think so,” he admits, breathless as he continues to hold her. “Are you all right?” 

“No.” 

Well, at least she’s honest. He keeps holding her for a few more moments before slowly untwining his arms from her and moving so that he’s hovering above her. She looks scared out of her mind, wide eyed and shaking. He reaches down to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear from where it’s escaped from her buns, and though he can feel himself shaking too, elbows nearly giving out, he cups her cheek gently and runs his thumb over the bone just beneath her eye. 

“We’re alive,” he breathes, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. “We’re alive!” 

She laughs too, though it’s shaky, and he bends to bury his face in her neck as he laughs nearly hysterically at the fact that they’re alive. 

“Sorry about that.” 

Ben startles at the new voice, pulling his face from Rey’s neck as he stares at the man who’s waiting beside the lift. 

The older man offers a sheepish smile. “We’ve been working out a few mechanical difficulties. It’s not the newest building.” 

Ben stares at him, feeling his heart pound in his chest as his body tries to recover from the adrenaline rush it’s just experienced. He can feel Rey’s torso against his, heaving heavily, breasts pressing against his chest with every intake of breath. Between her and the drop, his brain’s a muddled mess, and he has trouble getting his mouth to work properly. 

“Uh…” he says. “Yeah… you might wanna get that fixed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (don't worry, Finn will be fine, i swear.)


	13. Coruscant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, so here's the chapter as promised! It's a bit later than I wanted to publish it, but hey, I got it done! The kiss is in this chapter, as stated in the last note.  
> Admittedly, this chapter's based on a mission in the PC game Jedi Knight II: Jedi Outcast. While I doubt some of you have played it due to age and obscurity, it's awesome and I've played it so many times - I gotta love Kyle Katarn.  
> Thank you all for your awesome support and fantastic comments. They really helped me get through this chapter, and I love reading them! You're all amazing, and I'm so incredibly lucky to have readers like you through this process. <3  
> Enjoy!

The man’s a lot older than Ben was expecting. He’s not entirely sure who he expected, honestly; some kind of young punk, maybe younger than Ben himself, caught in the thrill of black market dealing and gambling. But no, this man looks to be his father’s age, if not older, hair already white and skin sagging with age. He reminds Ben of some of the senators from his younger years, when he was led through crowds, holding onto his mother’s hand as she pulled him through parties and meetings. 

He’s flanked by two other males with blasters bigger than Ben’s arm, and immediately Ben’s wondering if this was an awful idea. With his luck, it probably is. 

“Caine Burr,” the man offers as Ben pushes himself off of Rey and gets to his feet. The smuggler reaches his hand down for Rey to take, and she lets him pull her up until she’s leaning against him, legs too shaky to support herself properly. He wraps his arm around her waist instinctively, holding onto her as he looks towards the droid dealer.

Caine Burr’s a dark man, with a shock of white hair that matches the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. His left eye’s dark, a cool brown like Finn’s. His skin and his eye color, that’s where the similarities between the two men end. 

The rest of the man’s face, right eye included, is a smooth collection of metal and wire. A cybernetic implant. It takes up half of his forehead, and moves midway down his cheekbone. The implant where his eye should be is perhaps the most disturbing. It’s far from human, a metal ball with a single lens inserted into the metal. Ben can’t help but be unnerved by it, testing it as he moves slightly more towards Rey. The eye follows him, moving marginally in his same direction. 

He doesn’t like that. Not one bit. 

Ben glances towards the other two males. One’s human, and one’s a Weequay; their faces are brooding and straight as they guard their employer. He casts a glance towards the rifles they’re carrying, and recognizes them from the black market. They’re powerful weapons, accurate to the extreme, and he straightens, pushing his shoulders back to make himself look just a little big bigger in front of them. Not for the first time, he’s grateful for his broad, 6’3 frame. 

“Ben Solo,” Ben replies, offering his hand to the older man. He knows he should’ve offered a fake name – maybe, probably. But his last name’s either a burden or a blessing, depending on the situation, and so he hopes maybe just this once it’ll be a blessing.

To his surprise, the hand the man offers is cybernetic as well. Unlike most people Ben’s known with cybernetic hands, the droid dealer seems to have chosen to go without the synthetic skin that’s typically applied over top for a more natural appearance. Instead, his fingers are spindly and his palm rough as he takes Ben’s hand. While the grip’s there, Ben’s not entirely comfortable with the way it feels. It’s too cold, too thin around his own hand. But he offers the best smile he can towards the older man, and slips his hand into his pocket once they’ve finished to warm his skin up again. 

“This is Rey, my second mate,” Ben explains, saying no more in hopes of not getting questions. “We want a droid for her.” He glances towards the two guards to see if they react, but they don’t. 

“You’ve come to the right place.” The man’s voice is kinder than Ben’s expecting. While it should put him at east, it actually puts him on edge as Rey straightens a bit, having gotten her strength back in her legs. She stands beside him, quiet as the older man speaks. “What kind of droid are you looking for, Ben Solo?” 

“An Imperial droid,” Ben explains. “Empire age, if possible. She likes to tinker, and those are the ones she’s most familiar with.” It could be a lie, but it could also be the truth – he’s not entirely sure, honestly, but when he glances towards Rey, she’s playing along and nodding.

“That old?” Caine asks. “Why not a new droid?”

“I like the older ones,” she says, perhaps a bit snippily, and Ben bites his lip to hide his smile at how demanding she sounds. 

The older man’s mouth quirks up ever so slightly. “Feisty little one, isn’t she?” he asks, accent pure Coruscanti as he looks at Ben. “Pretty, though.”

“She is,” Ben says, unsure exactly of how to respond to the man’s words. 

“How much are you willing to pay for a droid?” 

“2,500 credits,” Ben replies. “Imperial or Republic. Take your pick.” 

The man raises the only grey brow he has. “That much? For an old Imperial droid?” 

“I’d be happy to go lower,” the smuggler offers, though he’s positive that his offer will stand for the old man. 

“No, no,” the dealer says, shaking his head. “No, 2,500 is very generous.” He jerks his head down the hallway the lift empties out into. “My collection’s just down here.” 

Rey stays by Ben’s side as they walk, and he reaches down for her hand. Much to his surprise, she takes it, and clings to it as they follow Burr down the hallway. The small amount of contact is comforting as the guards boots clang heavily against the floor of the hallway, even Ben’s large feet sounding like a gentle tap compared to theirs. 

“I heard you make battle droids as well,” Ben pipes, trying to make friendly conversation. Or conversation, at the very least. 

The other man’s laugh is more like a bark, and while it sounds a bit like his uncle’s laugh, Ben feels his blood run slightly colder at the sound. “And who told you that?” 

“An old friend,” Ben says vaguely. 

“Your old friend’s right,” Burr replies, glancing back with his cyber eye. It turns more than a normal eye should be able to, and Ben resists the urge to grimace as the man barely has to turn his head to look fully at the two. “Interested in joining the circuit?” 

“Maybe. Is there a lot of money in it?” 

Burr laughs again, and Ben decides he really doesn’t like the man’s laugh. It makes him just as uneasy as the rest of the situation, and he moves closer to Rey out of protective instinct. “Is there a lot of money in it? Are you playing the fool, boy?” 

“Just the ignorant,” Ben admits as Burr leads them down to the end and swipes a key card. 

“There’s plenty of money in it,” the dealer says as he steps through the door. 

It’s too simple. All of this is too easy, and Ben doesn’t like it. He looks down towards Rey, squeezing her hand to get her attention. Her eyes snap to him, and though he can’t exactly read her thoughts, he can see the uncertainty in her expression and can guess that she’s thinking the same thing. 

He’s a Skywalker. Things don’t go this easily. Ever. 

He keeps a tight hold of Rey’s hand as they step into what Ben immediately knows to be the main recycling plant. He can smell it right away; the sour, bitter fumes of melted-down metal and chemicals. He wants to pull his jacket over his nose – a quick glance towards Rey shows she’s tugged her tank up over her mouth and is holding the fabric to the bridge of her nose with her free hand. 

“Sorry, business,” Burr apologizes, throwing a smile back their way. Ben’s sure it’s meant to be apologetic, but with most of his cheek muscles replaced by the metal, it comes off more as a grimace than anything else. “Melting down scrap for the new bots.” 

“I see.” The moment he opens his mouth, he’s coughing, unused to the putrid air. It’s worse than outside, by far, and suddenly he’s aching to go out to the industrial sector. As awful as that air was, it’s a lot better than what he’s breathing in now. 

Rey squeezes his hand and looks up at him. He waves at her when he sees her concerned look, assuring her that he’s fine. Or not dying, at the very least. 

“My collection’s right through here,” the dealer calls over the sound of metal clanging and machines crashing against each other. “We’re trying to move it upstairs to make it more accessible to customers.”

“Makes sense,” Ben calls back, voice choked as he speaks around his spasming throat. 

He looks to the side to find the two guards still with them, and he mentally notes their armor and the weak spots. It’s not heavy, not at all, but it’ll take two blaster bolts to the chest to really take them down. He should’ve taken his uncle’s bowcaster – that would’ve handled any problems easily. But he hadn’t thought about it at the time. He’s regretting it deeply now as the Weequay adjusts his grip on his blaster rifle.  
Ben startles slightly as the door they approach opens quickly, and he feels Rey’s grip tighten on his hand as they step into a room that looks to be mostly droids, most deactivated. Ben lifts his foot as a small mouse droid rolls right by his foot with a squeal, escaping out into the open work area. He watches the little droid go before looking back towards Burr. 

“I can’t tell you where you’ll find an Imperial droid,” the older man laments. “But you’ll find one in here, if you’re going to find one at all.”  
“I’m sure we’ll find something of use,” Ben replies. 

Ben’s pretty sure he can hear the whir of the man’s eye as it turns to focus on him, lens widening slightly. “Solo, you said?” 

“Yeah?” Ben offers. The man’s tone is only curious, and it makes the smuggler wary. 

“Like Han Solo?” 

Oh, Maker. Ben gives the best smile he possibly can while his pulse is hammering a parsec a second. “Like Han Solo.” 

Burr attempts a smile again; Ben doesn’t like it at all, the expression lopsided with his metal cheek. “He and I were good friends.” 

“Really?” Ben asks. “He’s never said anything about you.” 

It’s a lie. It’s a downright lie, and he knows it. He knows for a fact that his father only has a handful of friends, and he’s held the hands of almost all of them, little hand clenched between their larger ones when he was younger. He can name them, as well; ‘Caine Burr’ is not on that short, short list. 

“Huh.” Again, the man’s tone is carefully level, and Ben’s uneasiness doesn’t let up in the slightest. If anything, it deepens, his distrust of the man deepening with it. “I’m sorry to hear that.” There’s that smile again, and Ben pulls Rey just a tad closer. She goes with him when he was expecting her to pull away, and he’s grateful for it. 

“I hope you find what you’re looking for. If you do, my guards will bring you to me and we can talk payment. 2,500 credits?”

“2,500 credits,” Ben repeats. “Your choice.” 

“Excellent. Your father would’ve gone significantly lower,” the man replies, and Ben watches as he turns towards the guards who have gone to stand beside him. Ben can’t hear what he says next, but the Weequay nods as the human just straightens once the dealer’s finished speaking to them. 

“I have a battle to oversee in two hours,” Burr announces. “Will it take that long?” 

The smuggler glances around at the dozens of droids around them; he figures that they won’t bother with the ones that won’t activate, or the ones that don’t look to be Imperial. “I don’t think so, no.” 

“Fantastic. I’ll see you when you find your droid, then.” 

With that, the man is gone. Ben watches him go, the tails of his coat fluttering behind him. He dresses like the elite, the smuggler notices. Those who reside on the higher levels. Ben’s willing to guess he can blend in just as well as Ben can, slipping between the levels easily.  
Rey pulls her hand from his, and he immediately misses the warmth. “Where do we start?” 

“Dark-colored droids,” he explains under his breath, looking around the room. “Sentries might be the best bet. Look for R5s or R2s.” To the guards, he’s pushing her forward with his hand at the small of her back. “Go on, sweetheart, find something you like.” This is said louder, within earshot of the two males. 

“Right.” She moves to the left and he moves to the right, searching the room for any of the models he’d suggested. 

He finds an R5 unit in a few moments, but its light refuses to turn on. He leans down and knocks against it, trying to wake it, but it’s no use. The droid refuses to activate, and he stands and moves towards another. 

He goes through three R2s, five R5s. Six of them are deactivated, and when he bends to find the information in the droid’s bank, he finds maps of the old ships but not maps of the galaxy. He glances up occasionally, checking to make sure that the guards haven’t moved from their post by the open door. They haven’t, hands still on their rifles. 

“Ben!” 

He straightens and nearly hits his head on the extended arm of an old protocol droid. He narrowly avoids a headache and looks around for the scavenger, finding her near the back left corner with her arm raised. 

“Find something you like?” he calls over as he scrambles over some of the shorter droids to get to her. He nearly trips over a deactivated mouse droid, but finds his footing well enough and avoids colliding into a set of protocol droids. 

“I think this one might have the information we need,” she says quietly, kneeling beside the small, black R2 unit that’s beeping lazily and rocking slightly. “It says it has maps, but his spotlight’s gone out. We can’t project to check.”

“Maps of the galaxy, or of the ships?” Ben asks, kneeling beside her and reaching out for the droid. It’s light flashes and it whines softly at him.  
“It went between ships with information,” Rey explains. 

“That doesn’t mean it has the information we need,” he mutters. “But it’s worth a shot.” 

He pulls a data chip from his pocket, snagged back at the apartment. The droid willingly opens its dataport, and he slides the chip in. It sticks in the slot, and he frowns as it refuses to go in further. 

“Hang on, little guy. We get your information, and maybe we can put it in another droid and check it there. We'll get you out of here, okay?” he mumbles, bracing his hand on the droid’s ‘head’ and trying to pull the chip out to try again. It pulls out with a bit of difficulty, but he manages it easily enough. He rubs his thumb along the outside of the port; it won’t help much in the way of the inside, but maybe he can get a smoother slide at the beginning. He tries again, and the chip goes in more smoothly. He waits for a projection, an acknowledging beep, anything, but it never comes. 

“… is it processing?” he asks the droid. Its head rotates ever so slightly; a head shake. 

He tries to pull at the small bit of the data chip that’s still outside of the port, and hisses as his fingers slip from it painfully. He reaches and tries again, getting a slightly better grip on it. He manages a little bit, but then it sticks, something caught on the inside of the droid. 

“It’s stuck!” Ben insists, looking up at Rey as he tries to pull the data chip from the droid. “It’s rusted, it won’t let go!” 

“Pull harder!” she hisses. 

“Any harder, I’m going to pull the droid over with me!” he snaps. 

He can feel it loosen, ever so slightly, the droid whining pathetically as it’s victim to Ben’s tugging.

“Kriffing hell, it’s tight,” he mutters, staring at the droid before letting go of the chip. “Listen. Do you think you might have maps or not?” 

The droid beeps positively, and Ben looks towards Rey. “What do you think?” 

“It’s worth a try,” she admits. 

He glances back down towards the droid. “… c’mon,” he mutters. “We can’t steal the information, we’re gonna steal the droid.”

He’s standing from being on his knees when there’s a deafening slam from the back, and the floor rocks beneath him.

Both he and Rey turn, eyes on the droids and scrap surrounding them. Nothing moves, nothing even beeps as they look around the room for what could’ve possibly made the noise. 

Ben’s going to try the chip again when Rey says, “The door.” 

His head snaps up, and he stares at the door. She’s right. What once was an open door is now a closed one, not even a sliver of light coming through it. The guards are still stationed in front of it, but now their hands have slipped closer to the blasters trigger.

“Sithspit,” he mutters, pushing himself up from where he was kneeling and staring at the door. “We’ve gotta go.” 

“What about the guards?” Rey demands. 

“I’ll take care of them, you get the droid into the next room. Hit the button when you pass it, I’m going to make a run for it,” he orders, standing and walking around the droids they’d hidden behind. “Hey, I think we’ve found one!” 

He gives the best reassuring grin he can as they approach, blaster rifles still in hand. The odds aren’t good, his blasters no match for their rifles, but then again he never liked odds anyway. 

“Yeah, some little R2 unit she wants to fix up,” he explains as the guards get closer. He starts walking towards them, shrugging. “Don’t know why she’d want some piece of junk, but-“ 

He’s close enough that he can kick. So that’s what he does, long leg lashing out and kicking the human guard in the chest. He’s pulled his blaster out and shoots the Weequay in the shoulder. The armor takes most of the damage, but the guard falls anyway, and then Ben’s running. He can hear the whirring of the door mechanisms as they start to close, and he turns to see that they’re already halfway closed.  
He makes a run for it, hearing the clanging of the guards’ armor against the floor as he sprints towards where Rey and the R2 unit are standing near the switch. 

“C’mon, we’ve gotta go, kid,” he insists. “Burr’s not going to be happy that I did that.” 

“You could’ve just run,” she tells him. “They wouldn’t have caught up to us!”

“Hey, I could’ve killed them!” he snaps back, springing into the next room. 

He can hear the R2 droid rolling along the floor, and Rey’s footfall behind him as she runs to catch up. Much to his surprise, they make it through the door, the two sides of it closing shut a mere second after they run through. 

Ben looks around the room they’ve run into and frowns. “This must be where he keeps the recent ones,” he mutters. 

There’s no scrap here, no half-put-together droids. There are lines of them, maybe a dozen or so new, shiny droids. Ben’s heart clenches when he recognizes a few from Nar Shadda; these are droids meant for battle, and for killing. Their armor’s basic and lacking in coverage, but what is covered is strong durasteel. He’s seen these, a few times, and has seen what they can do to someone with just a blaster. “Sithspit….”

The door closes with a dull ‘clunk’ behind them, but Ben doesn’t look back at it as he takes a step forward. 

It’s a bad decision. It’s a very, very bad decision, he decides immediately as all of the droids activate at once. He startles as he sees the blasters on the ends of one of their arms, and finds himself staring directly down the barrel of one. 

He holds his hands up slowly, backing up until he can feel Rey just behind him. “Burr!” he yells. “Burr, we have a problem!” 

“So you inherited your father’s habits, as well as his nose.” 

Ben stills, eyes going wide as he searches the highest corners of the room. He should’ve done that beforehand, with the other room, but no – he was an idiot. He finds the camera in the highest left corner, and his hands fall to his side. “Oh, fuck me!” he groans. 

“I’m disappointed. I really thought that we’d had a deal going.” The speaker, like the one outside, isn’t the best by far. Burr’s voice is crackling, and strange-sounding. But Ben can hear the condescending tone of the other man, and resists the urge to roll his eyes at it.

“We can still have a deal!” Ben insists, trying to find where Burr’s voice is coming from and failing. So he looks towards the camera instead, holding up his hands again in an attempt to placate the droid dealer. “I can get you the money, I promise! I just … don’t have it on me, right now! I can get it to you!” 

“Why am I not inclined to trust you, Solo?” 

He hates it when his last name is spat, like it has some kind of sour taste. “Shoulda used Organa,” he mutters, running his hand down his face as he glances up towards the camera again. “Look, Burr, I can get you the money. I can get you the money tonight, if you want! I just need to go and get it, all right?” 

“If you survive, two of you can walk free.” 

Ben blinks. “Wait, what?” 

He yelps as one of the farther droids fires. It misses by a wide margin, but it’s like the starting buzzer to the rest of them. Ben ducks as Rey hits the floor, small hands scrambling for the blaster at her side. “Sithspit!” 

He can hear the shrill, scared squeal of the droid, but pays it no mind as he tries to cover his own hide.

“It’s fourteen against two!” Rey yells to him as the battle droids start shooting. They’re not sophisticated droids, big clunky things with thankfully somewhat poor aim, the heaviness of the armor throwing them off. They’re made for entertainment and durability, Ben guesses; if they were actually accurate, the fight would be over in seconds and the crowd disappointed. They’re not elegant droids, either, if the way they’re stomping around and nearly pushing themselves off balance with each step is anything to go by.

Ben slips between one’s legs, grabbing his blaster and aiming up to the mechanics revealed under its chin. He aims for the wires and shoots, rolling away as it falls down, head sparking with the its wires melted. “Thirteen!” he calls, shooting at another droid. The bolt fires right back off of its armored chest, and Ben has to hit the floor as it comes right back at him. He hears the bolt hit the wall and sits up just enough to aim another shot at the droid’s neck region, that area not covered by armor. It’s a small, vulnerable area that’s honestly awful for the situation they’re in; he’s a good shot, but not that good. 

He stands as Rey moves to the side and blocks her as best as he can from the shots, her back against his as she shoots at droids that are behind him.

“Aim for the neck!” he yells, and a second later he hears the sound of metal hitting the floor. 

Twelve. Twelve against two. 

They’re not going to make it with blasters. They don’t have time to push the power packs into them, no time to reload or any way to defend themselves. It’s not like the other room, where there are sets of droids for them to hide behind; there’s nothing except the other battle droids, and Ben doesn’t want to risk using them as cover, not when their aim is as poor as it is.

“Fuck,” he breathes, looking back at Rey. “Kid, I’m gonna need you to trust me!” 

“About what?!” 

He reaches towards his hip and pulls out the lightsaber, reaching back and offering it to her. He can’t see her face, can’t see her reaction as he tries to find her hand and force the weapon into it. “Use this!” 

For a moment, the only sound he hears is his harsh breathing, hers, and the sound of the blaster bolts around them. 

“You lied to me!” 

He feels his stomach plummet at her near scream. It’s an angry sound, hurt and distraught, and it makes him wince as he sees another bot aim clumsily for his head. Ben ducks and rolls again, aiming for another droid’s neck. He misses spectacularly and curses as he aims again. “I didn’t lie!” he insists. “I just didn’t tell you I had it, there’s a difference!” 

He still has the saber in his hand; she’d failed to take it. So he turns and finds her, kicking a droid in the chest to keep it back as she tries to aim for another one. “Rey, just take it!” 

“No!” 

“Rey, I need you to trust me!” 

“Why should I!?” 

Oh, Maker. His heart aches at her words and he shoots another droid in the head. To his dismay, it’s not enough and the bolt rockets right off and towards the wall. “Because you need to!” he insists. “Take it and use it, damn it!” 

He turns when she’s close enough and tosses the weapon to her. In her surprise she drops her blasters, catching the saber with two hands and igniting it in the same movement. He watches as she turns and swings it instinctively, decapitating the droid behind her in one smooth movement. Its head falls to the floor while its body collapses like those towers of cards he made with Poe back when they were kids, when the rain came and they were stuck inside the base. 

She’s staring at the weapon in something like horror when he sees the droid just behind her.  
“REY!” 

She turns and swings upwards on instinct. He barely has time to watch her slice the droid directly in half before one’s on him, and he has to turn and shoot up its head to keep it from blasting his chest right open. 

He can hear the sound of the blade behind him as he works on the droids that are advancing him. Whatever she’s doing, it must be working because he can hear metal hitting the floor every few seconds. 

“Ben!” 

“What?!” 

“DOWN!” 

He drops to the floor just as a droid he hadn’t seen shoots at him. He watches in horror as the bolt heads directly towards her, but then she’s moving the blue blade in the line of fire and sending the bold right back towards the droid. While it doesn’t destroy it, it does stop it long enough for Ben to turn on his back, reach up, and aim for the neck. It nearly falls on top of him after he shoots it, and he rolls out of its way as it crashes to the floor. 

Seven are left by the time he looks over to check on Rey, who seems to be holding her own with the saber, slashing and hacking at the droids that are attacking her. It’s not the most elegant fighting he’s ever seen, her out of her element with the saber and used to something longer and double-ended, but it’s definitely effective if the mess of metal and wire around her is any indication.

He watches her for half a moment as she slices right through one of the droids in one smooth motion, the two halves sliding apart before crashing to the floor. 

He can see the droid above him as he’s still lying on his back, and turns his head back to glare at it, pushing his feet up and kicking it square in its metal chest. It falls backwards as he stands and shoots it, head sparking from his shot. “Six!” he calls. 

He hears more metal crashing to the floor. “Five!” she yells back.

He turns to see her plunging the blade into the head of another droid. Unfortunately, while she’s trying to get the blade out of its metal head as it falls, she doesn’t see the droid right behind her. 

The droid’s too far away for him to hit accurately. But the least he can do is distract it. He aims and fires, catching the droid in its exposed shoulder. 

It turns and shoots at him, and he doesn’t have the time to duck, too focused on making sure Rey wasn’t shot that he’s hit in the upper right arm, skin and fabric burning as the bolt goes through his clothes. 

His shout is more out of surprise than pain, but apparently Rey sees it the other way as she decapitates the droid that shot him in one angry, nearly stabbing movement with a sound he’s not entirely sure is human. 

Ben can sense another one of the droids behind him and turns and shoots. It’s not the best as accuracy goes, but it’s good enough as it hits one of the droid’s wires and causes a chain reaction that leave its head dangling pathetically from its body and arms dropping. Ben gives it a firm kick in the chest to send it down. 

Two more. 

Rey takes care of the next one, and he’s left to shoot almost lazily at the remaining droid, stepping out of the line of fire and aiming with one hand at its neck. The droid spasms as its shot, and he watches, panting heavily and reaching his free hand to clutch at his shoulder as it goes down, twitching once and then stopping still. 

He stares at it for a moment before he’s turning, and takes just one step forward before he’s tackled in a tight hug. The blaster falls from his hand and he ignores the pain in his arm to wrap both around her, burying his face in her neck as he holds her close. 

There’s only the sound of their breathing and sparking droids as they hold each other, and he closes his eyes for a moment. He lets himself feel her heartbeat against his, reassuring and strong. She’s alive. They’re alive. They’re both alive. 

He pulls back slightly, but doesn’t dare let her go as he stares down at her. “You all right, sweetheart?” he breathes, wide-eyed and high on adrenaline for the second time that day.

He doesn’t have time to catch his breath before she’s slapping him across the face, calloused hand hard against his left cheek. All the air leaves his lungs, and he blinks, face still turned as she explodes at him.

“You could’ve died!” she screams, and he knows she’s not wrong.

His face honestly hurts more than the blaster wound to his arm, and he blinks, moving his jaw as he turns to look back down at her. “… but I didn’t?” he offers weakly. 

“But what would I have done if you had?!” she demands.

“Taken Chewie, gone on the Millennium Falcon, and seen every green space in the entire galaxy?” he asks. It’s supposed to be a joke, but he realizes after he says it that it’s an incredibly morbid one that she probably didn’t appreciate very much.

She stares up at him in shock, and then she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down just slightly, hands moving to cup his cheeks. Her gentle touch is a lot better than the slap she just delivered, even as rough as the callouses on the pads of her fingers are. 

“I don’t…” Whatever fight she’d had left in her leaves, seemingly in one breath as she melts into his arms. He holds her up, most of the way, arms winding around her back and holding her tight. “I don’t want to do that without you.” Her voice is softer, now, and he closes his eyes. She smells of sweat and burnt metal and something like ozone, not of the sand and sun he knows from her. 

“Well, you won’t have to,” he tells her, just as breathless as she is after the fight. He bends slightly to press his forehead to hers, giving her the best grin he can as he tries to get his lungs back in proper working order. “I’m not leaving you, kid. I can’t give you much, but I can promise you that.” 

He’s given maybe a half second to comprehend what’s happening before she’s turning her face towards his kissing him fiercely, pulling his mouth down to hers forcefully.

She’s inexperienced. Their teeth clash, and her lips are chapped from being on that damn desert planet, but she’s eager at the least. He wonders after a moment if he’s her first kiss, and by the way her lips are mashing against his, he’s betting that he is. It makes him smile, giddy with the thought that he’s the first one she’s wanted to kiss, and then he’s pulling her off of the ground as her hands tangle in his hair and bring him closer. One arm wraps around his shoulders for support while the other moves into his hair, fingers clenching against his scalp. 

His arm burns in protest, but he doesn’t care as he guides her as best as he can, lips moving against hers. He tries to slow it, tries to make it sweeter, but she’s having absolutely none of it as she kisses him with the kind of fury he just saw her fighting with. His hand finds the small of her back while the other holds onto her shoulders, keeping her up with him as he kisses her. 

By the time she pulls away, he can taste blood. He’s not entirely sure if it’s his, or hers, or a combination, but he’s certainly not complaining if it’s evidence of the kiss. He’s supporting her entirely, holding her up despite the blaster wound to his arm, and despite the pain he can’t bring himself to mind at all. 

“I’m not leaving you,” he assures her, because it’s probably the only thing in his messed up, fucked up, almost positively short life that he knows for certain. 

There’s a soft sound from her throat, and he’s honestly not sure whether it’s a laugh or a sob. She’s panting against his mouth when there’s a little beep from the side, and he reluctantly turns his mouth away from hers to look down at the little droid who somehow managed to escape the firefight. 

“You’d better be worth it,” Ben mutters as Rey slides down to the floor again. Though she stays in his arms as the speaker crackles, startling both of them. Ben’s grip on her tightens, and he tucks her into him as best as he can. 

“I thought you were going to die.” 

“Honestly? So did we!” Ben calls back, hand moving up and down Rey’s back. “What the fuck was that, Burr? You’re losing a valuable customer!”

“Entertainment.”

This time, the voice sounds closer, and not as warped. Ben watches as the door on the other side of the room from where they’d entered opens, revealing the older man with his hands behind his back. “Admittedly, it was a bit shorter than I prefer my fights. But I’m impressed. A lightsaber, how shocking."

Rey yanks herself away from Ben and grabs the weapon where it had fallen when they embraced, holding it tightly in her hand. Ben grabs her around the waist once she’s close enough and tugs her back into the circle of his arm, his blaster ready to fire if he needs to take the old man down. It’s not preferred, no, but he’d definitely be willing after the stunt he’d just pulled. 

“Attempting to steal from me. Your father did the exact same,” Burr explains. “Except it was credits, and not a droid.” 

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Ben admits, voice low. 

The man’s smile isn’t kind. It’s not even attempting to be kind, anymore; it just looks plain wrong, Ben thinks as he watches the expression unfold on the other man’s face. 

“I’ll keep my promise. You survived. You can go.” 

“I’ll get the payment to you,” Ben insists. 

“Don’t bother. You provided tonight’s entertainment.” His cybernetic hand gestures to the camera, and Ben looks up to the lens. The smuggler looks towards the droids around them, and it’s with startling clarity that he realizes he completely misunderstood the ‘battle droid’ circuit. He turns to Burr and stares openly at the man, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of lifeforms battling the droids instead of the droids battling each other. 

Rey seems to reach the same conclusion he does, because suddenly she’s lunging forward, the saber in her hands ignited as she moves towards the other man with the same inhumane sound. Ben barely has a second to reach for her and grab her around the waist, pulling her back against him. “Hey!”

The dealer just smirks as Ben glares up at him, still trying to hold Rey. 

“… you know, I don’t really like killing, but I could make an exception,” the smuggler growls. 

“You kill me, they kill you,” Burr warns, jerking his head towards the other end of the room. Ben turns as best as he can to see the guards from before, blasters now trained on the pair instead of just being held. 

Ben looks back at the dealer. “… you said we’re free.” 

“I said two can go.” 

“Well, it’s lucky we didn’t bring the rest of our crew, then, huh?” Ben mutters. “Turn that damn thing off, kid, we’re leaving.” 

The blue blade’s deactivated, but it doesn’t leave her hand as he pulls her forward towards what he assumes is the exit. He looks back to make sure the droid’s following them, and is relieved to see that it is, rolling along the floor at a near frantic pace. 

They’re reaching the door, Rey tense against him when Burr’s voice calls out, “The droid counts as one.” 

Ben stops dead, and curses as the droid runs into his heels as a result. “… are you fucking kidding me?” he calls back, note even bothering to turn around. 

The silence the other man gives him is all he needs, and he wants to scream as he looks down at the girl who’s staring up at him.  
“We can kill him,” she offers, holding up the lightsaber. 

“No, don’t. You try, we die. Those are high power blasters, accurate as hell. We don't mess with those, kid,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “… remember that promise, back in the apartment?"

She stares at him, eyes scared as she shakes her head. “No, Ben, we can leave the droid-“ 

“And what if it has what we need?” he demands. “No, you take the droid, find Chewie, Finn, and Poe, and get the hell off of this planet, do you hear me?” 

“I’m not leaving you!” she whines, sounding more scared than he’s ever heard her, and he glances towards Burr. 

“Take me!” he calls. “Let them go!” 

He’s yanked back down to her almost immediately, both of her hands coming around his face and pulling him to her. “Ben, you’re not staying.” Her voice wavers slightly, and he presses his forehead to hers. 

“Well, I’m sure as hell not leaving you, so you have to leave me,” he insists, stilling as the Weequay comes to stand beside her, blaster aimed at her temple. He can feel someone behind him, and his right wrist is grabbed harshly by one of the guards. He’s tugged back from the force of it, but she follows him, her hand raking through his hair. 

“You’re not staying,” she says again, and he just grins. 

“I promised you I wouldn’t leave you, kid. I’m not backing out on that,” he insists as his other wrist is grabbed and he feels the binders as they’re secured on him “Find them, find the ship, get off this damn planet. Get the droid to Mom, all right? She’ll know what to do with it.”

“I’m not leaving you!” she hisses again, and he winces as he’s yanked forcefully backwards, back hitting the armored chest of who he assumes to be the human guard. Her hands are ripped from him, and she’s left holding empty air as he’s pulled up and back, the guard’s hand on his jacket. 

He grins at her. “I’ll figure something out.” _I’ll find a way back to you._ “Just trust me, all right?” He hisses as his hair’s grabbed and yanked. “Okay, the jacket’s fine, but hands off the hair. I’m coming, I’m coming.” He glances down at her. “Go, sweetheart. I’ll be fine, I promise.” 

She looks scared as hell, eyes wide and entire body shaking at the blaster at her temple. But she grips the saber, not igniting it out of the fear of the rifle barrel against her skin, and glances down to the droid as Ben lets himself be pulled backwards. 

“Go,” he tells her. “I’ll figure something out.” 

She doesn't move. She looks like she wants to lunge towards him, or turn and spin and stab the guard beside her. Honestly, Ben would be perfectly fine with either if she didn't have the weapon against her head. 

"Go." 

She does. 

The blaster’s kept at her temple as she walks, and the droid beeps in a too-cheery farewell as she goes to the doors. This time, they open, and she steps through with one more glance back at him. He nods at her as the doors close suddenly with a definitive ‘clang’.  
He sags almost immediately, strength failing as soon as she’s gone. 

“Tell the First Order we have Solo.” 

The phrase makes him grin wryly, and he looks up through the dark hair that’s fallen in his eyes to the dealer in front of him. “You know, I had the feeling you were going to go with the Imperial credits,” he snarks as he’s pulled up forcefully, the guard’s hand harsh in his hair. “Hey, hey, hair, easy.” 

He really, really does not like the dealer’s grin. “Did you now?” 

“Yeah,” Ben says, grinning right back. “Almost all of the assholes I’ve encountered are either selling something, or part of the First Order. I guess it’s my lucky day, seeing as I found someone who's both.” 

It’s the last thing he says before he’s clocked on the side of the head, though he does manage some sort of groan before everything goes dark.


	14. Coruscant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me so long to write, honestly. I had options A B and C for what happens, and wrote all of them, and with the help of every-day-is-star-wars-day (on Tumblr) I narrowed it down and combined them. But it was a lot of editing and thinking and planning of what I wanted to save for next chapter and what I wanted in this one.   
> Thank you all so much for the comments and kudos. If you sort Kylo/Rey fics by Kudos, we're in the top 20! That's incredible!!!! You're all incredible, and I'm so glad to have readers like you who leave kudos and wonderful comments.   
> Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

She can recall, in a few of her earliest memories, the starkly horrifying realization that she was completely and utterly alone. 

The heart-stopping, tear-inducing moments were few and far between. She thinks they stopped when she hit her teens, maybe, lost to maturity and rationality. Alone meant no one to help her, yes, but it also meant no one to hinder her. She didn’t have to worry about another seat on her speeder, or someone taking a wrong step behind her. She worried about her own wellbeing, and that was hard enough itself. To be alone was to be free of a whole slew of worries and concerns, and for that she was grateful.

Sometimes, though, she’d wake up out of a dead sleep and nearly hit her head on the low-lying ceiling of the AT-AT, heart pounding and chest feeling hollow as the realization hits her, hard and merciless. It would always take her hours to fall back asleep again, seemingly longer to get her heart rate and breathing entirely under control. 

She hasn’t felt like that in … years, probably. 

She certainly feels it now, though, the metal door slamming behind her with a definitive ‘clang’ that hurts her ears and rattles her entire being with its force. 

In this city of probably trillions of people, she is completely and totally alone. 

There’s a curious little beep next to her, the small whir of the droid that had caused her sudden solitude. She glances down at the black-painted droid. 

It’s a piece of junk, honestly. It’s scuffed in several places, rusty in others, and its lights are a lot dimmer than they should be. She can see where the dirt from being in that room has gotten into its slots, where metal should meet metal but not quite. It’s a sad little thing, head turning in question as it asks her the question of ‘What now?’. 

“We find a way to get him back,” she tells it, because that’s the only thing she knows for certain right now. She steps around it and tries to get her bearings on where Ben’s speeder is, on where they are outside the building. She can see the platform they’d entered on a few levels up, and glances towards the droid. It can’t scale the building like she can; she can’t come back down and get it on the speeder, either. Speederbikes aren’t meant for carrying droids, especially not clunky old R2 units.

She glances between it and the platform. She can’t very well leave it; they might find it and take it back into the building. She can’t bring it with her, either. 

Hide it? Maybe, she thinks, looking back towards the R2 unit who beeps at her way too cheerfully. 

“Shut up,” she hisses, anger suddenly flaring at the small droid. “This is your fault, you know that? If you’d just shown us the damn map-“ 

The next little whir is forlorn, and she stares at the droid as it ‘bows’ its head, lens towards the ground. Maybe she should feel a bit bad for snapping at the poor thing, but she doesn’t. It’s the reason that Ben’s still inside, after all. 

She glances back towards the platform, and realizes that she also has no idea how to get back to Poe, Finn, or Chewie. Coruscant’s huge; she could ride around the entire planet before she found the right building, let alone the right landing platform. 

They don’t have that much time. 

She wants to curse, cry, scream – something. But she hears the little beep next to her, and glances down at the black, scuffed droid staring up at her and blinking in confusion. 

“… you stay here,” she mutters, because it’s the only solution she can think of. 

The metal of the hilt in her hand is warm, from her touch and its previous activation. She glances down at the weapon, feeling it in her palm. Despite the fear that it had brought back at the castle in Takodana, it brings a strange comfort now. The heart-wrenching loneliness she’d felt before slowly ebbs away into something warmer, something more reassuring.

She’s not entirely alone, not entirely powerless. She stares at it for a moment more before she becomes aware of the weight in her jacket, tucked into one of the inner pockets. 

The comlink. The one Ben’d handed her on Jakku, the one he’d forced into her palm and curled her fingers around. It seems like ages ago, though she supposes it was really only a day – two, at the most. 

She slips the saber into one of the now-empty blaster holsters, the other weapons having been left behind when she’d been tossed the saber. She scrambles for the comlink, trying to figure out how to work the damn thing. She presses as many buttons on it as she can, trying to figure out how to start a transmission. 

“Ben?” she demands. “Ben, can you hear me?” 

Something crackles, and she’s suddenly worried that she’ll get someone else. Maybe one of the guards, or Burr himself. The worse option is to get no one at all, though, and she’s almost entirely certain what she’ll get. 

“Ben?” she tries again, louder this time. “Ben, are you there?” 

There’s another crackle, loud and wince-inducing, and then silence. 

She waits for two heartbeats, three, four, five. She opens her mouth to try again, and then suddenly there’s another voice on the other end of the transmission. 

“Rey?” 

It’s not Ben’s voice. It’s not Ben’s voice, but she knows this voice. It’s the pilot. Poe. Poe Dameron. Her entire body feels like an explosion, everything jumping at once and feeling alight. She grins, clutching at the comlink. Poe’s better than Ben, right now. “Poe, where are you?” she demands. 

“Back at the apartment, what’s wrong?” he asks, and she thanks the Maker for the urgency in his voice. 

“Burr has Ben,” she insists, looking down towards the droid who’s still looking at her curiously. She starts pacing, walking back and forth along the platform. The droid attempts to follow her, but it doesn’t get very far before she’s walking back, and it has to turn and walk along with her. With the disuse of its motors, it’s slower than she is, and it rolls maybe two paces worth before she’s turning again. “… I’m going in to get him.” 

“You’re going to – I’m missing a few steps, sweetheart, take a breath and calm down, all right? What the kriffing hell happened?”

Sweetheart. It's impossibly strange coming from someone other than Ben, and though the endearment does calm her slightly, she doesn’t like the way it sounds coming from Poe’s mouth. It belongs to Ben. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps. “Ben tried to steal the droid, Burr set his battle droids on us, the droid and I escaped but Burr still has Ben. I’m going in to get him.” 

“Burr has –“ There’s a crackle, and she grips the comlink, suddenly scared that she lost him. 

It’s a moment later when the transmission comes through again, the pilot ending in an almost frantic, “- horrible idea, no, do not do that! Do not do that!” 

“We don’t have time for anything else!” she hisses into the comlink. 

“Hold tight, and don’t you dare … for Hutt's sake, don’t go in there alone, we’re on our way, okay?”

“It’ll take you too long to get here,” she insists. “I’m leaving the droid on one of the landing platforms on the lower levels, I need you to take it and get it to D’Quar.” 

“You’re not listening to me, Rey, this is a horrible id-“ 

She severs the transmission and stuffs the comlink into her pocket, looking down at the droid. 

“This is your fault,” she repeats. She’d wanted it to come out more scathing than it did, but instead it sounds more defeated. 

It whirs lowly, sounding sad and sorry. 

“Don’t do that. Stay here, don’t move, don’t go anywhere, and go with the Wookie,” she instructs before checking to make sure that the saber’s still at her side. She pulls it from the holster and clips it to her belt instead before looking at the droid again. It beeps gently, something slightly reassuring and a bit hopeful. 

“Yeah, I hope so too,” she mutters as she walks to the side of the building. The ledges are slick, coated in whatever the air down here contains, but she manages to get a decent hold if she tucks her hands into the large sleeves. She’s grateful the jacket’s large, anyway; it’s not that much of a stretch to get the leather to cover her fingers. She braces her feet against the side, and starts to climb.

-

He was born on a starship. 

He knows the hum of engines, the jump to hyperspeed, the feeling of machinery all around him, all metal and wires and drives and converters. He thinks he knows the feeling of not quite being on solid ground more than he knows the feeling of solid ground itself. It’s probably the reason he feels more at home amongst the stars than he ever has on one planet. He knows space before he knows anything else, and knows immediately upon waking that that’s not where he is.

He’s not quite functioning yet, but if he was, he would breathe a sigh of relief. He can vaguely register the clashing of the recycling plant, can smell the sour air. He hasn’t been taken off planet yet. 

His head hurts something awful, but he’s grateful he was put in some kind of storage room. The lights are flickering, and though it messes with his head a bit, they’re dim enough to not make that much of a difference in terms of the pounding behind his eyes. He’s been propped against something cold and metal, and as he lets his head dip back, his skull connects with it with a ‘clang’. 

The storage room is mostly empty. There’s a door, that he can see, but aside from a few boxes, he’s the only living being in it. Discarded until they can deal with him, he guesses. 

His blasters have been taken from him. That much is obvious. They left his coat, and his holsters, though, and he’s grateful for the barrier against the cold metal behind him. He lets his head loll to the side as his tongue runs across his teeth. He can’t taste any blood, not yet, anyway. He’s sure it’ll come once he inevitably decides to run his mouth. Yeah, he knows it’s inevitable. 

He closes his eyes against the flickering lights, and smirks, letting out a slight chuckle. 

“What are you laughing about?” 

He can hear a voice that isn’t Burr’s. It’s a lot gruffer, a lot lower than the older man’s. Ben doesn’t bother opening his eyes to know that it’s the human guard. He hadn’t heard the door hiss open, but he can bet that if he looks the man will be there. 

“How Solos always manage to get into fucked up situations involving Skywalkers,” he mumbles, more to himself than the guard. 

“You could’ve avoided it.”

“That’s debatable,” Ben mutters, letting his head loll to the other side. He can feel his hair in his face, and tries to blow it out of his eyes. It doesn’t work, and he’s left trying to whip it to the side. It just makes his head hurt more, so he stops and just leaves it despite it falling directly in his eyes. 

“You could’ve just paid for the damn droid.” 

“… something tells me you've never actually heard of the name 'Solo'."

He hears the hiss of the door again, and then the sure, easy steps he knows to be Burr’s. 

“Comfortable?”

“Not really,” Ben mumbles, opening his eyes and trying to blow his hair up onto his head again. It just flops right back down. “Damn it.”

Burr smirks, and reaches a hand out as if to brush the hair away. Ben lunges forward and snaps his teeth at the man’s fingers. The dealer retracts his hand immediately, eyes widening at the blatant display of animalistic aggression. 

“I thought you were better than that, Solo,” the dealer chides, and Ben glares at him. 

“Well, you know, it’s a little hard to punch you in the face while my hands are behind my back,” he admits. “I could always try kicking you where it hurts, but I don’t fight that dirty. Most of the time. I guess I could make an exception for you.” 

“Spitfires, you and your girl. Careful or you might do some damage,” Burr taunts, and Ben just shrugs. 

“Was planning on doing some anyway.” He makes to get up, to kick his leg, to lash out, do anything. But his head’s spinning too much, and he ends up tipping over right onto the arm that had been hit with the blaster. He hisses at the pain and curls in on himself slightly, cheek pressed against the cold floor. 

“Pathetic. Just like your father.” 

“Yeah, well,” Ben mumbles, but can’t think of anything to say. “If my hands weren’t bound and my head didn’t hurt like hell thanks to your thug’s fist, you’d be dead on the floor.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Burr replies sarcastically, and Ben’s really starting to hate the man. Not because he’s handing him over to the First Order, but because Ben’s kind of enjoying the back and forth they’re having. He wonders, idly, if his father had done the same thing whenever he’d been with the dealer. 

“You want to tell us what was in that droid that you needed so badly you were willing to steal it?” 

“Not really.”

Wrong answer. He’s kicked in the shoulder, and he groans. It’s not hard enough to break bone, but he’ll need some bacta afterwards, definitely. 

Maybe applied by small, calloused hands. Warm and gentle despite their roughness. He closes his eyes, tries to think of her. He hopes to hell and back that she made it out and back to Poe, Finn and Chewie. The thought of her being stuck in some other room in this trash heap makes him ache, and he really hopes that that’s not the case. 

“We let the girl and the droid go. The least you could do is give us a bit of information.” 

“I’m not giving you shit.” He means to spit it, for it to be scathing. It comes out pathetic and slurred instead as he closes his eyes, exhausted and in pain.   
There’s another kick, this time to his hip, dangerously close to his groin. He groans and curls in again to protect himself. 

“Y’know, I’d like to use that in the near future, if that’s all right with you,” he mutters. 

“Use it? For what? Fucking that little rat you brought with you?” 

He glares at the dealer with all he has, and swings his leg out as far as he possibly can. It’s not quite far enough, or he’s not quite fast enough, as Burr just steps back to avoid his boot. Ben growls, the movement only having rotated him a little bit on the corrugated metal floor. “Fuck you.” 

The dealer doesn’t look amused. Ben doesn’t get kicked, though he does steel himself for it. Instead he just gets a dull stare and a raised white eyebrow, the other man looking completely done with Ben’s snark.

“Gag him. The little bit we’ll get for the information isn’t worth it.” 

The fabric they stuff into his mouth is bitter and rough, but he lets himself be gagged. He knows full well that it’ll probably be better in the long run, so he lets the fabric be tied around his head and watches as the dealer disappears through the door, guard following. 

_I hope you’re outta here, kid._

-

By the time she reaches the upper levels, where Ben’s speeder is, her arms and fingers are aching from the effort of not falling to her death. She’s climbed higher before, but on Jakku, everything is so dry and covered in sand that it helped her in her efforts. Here, the pollution only hinders her, staining the leather of Ben’s jacket darker with the dirt and chemicals that have settled on the ledges. 

She sees Ben’s speeder in the shadows, and swings her legs up the rest of the way, landing near silently on the roof. She sees the windows nearby almost immediately, and thanks Ben for his forward thinking as she creeps up to them and peers inside the murky glass. 

The windows open to one of the catwalks above the machinery. She can see the hot metal being melted, the scraps being crunched down by a compressor. A dark shadow makes its way towards her, and she ducks down to avoid detection by what she’s assuming is either one of the plant’s workers, or one of the guards. She crouches, eyes turned upwards to watch as the shadow moves on. She waits for a few more heartbeats until moving up again, hand sliding to the saber at her side. She raises it and stares at it, wondering for a moment whether the blade could possibly cut through the pane in front of her. It had cut cleanly through metal and wires; glass, or transparisteel, or whatever this was couldn’t be much different, right?

She stares at the hilt for another moment before turning it and just jamming the butt of it into the glass. It cracks the glass, but doesn’t shatter it. She lifts her foot and gives the pane a good kick with her boot, and then the glass is breaking and falling. She steps back as the window shatters and broken glass falls to both the roof and the catwalk. The broken bits crunch under her feet as she steps inside, over the frame and into the building. 

Rey freezes as she realizes that she’s on the receiving end of a blaster, the guard from before having seen and heard her break in. She stares at the barrel for a moment, before some feeling tugs at the back of her gut and prompts her to say the words that are, somehow, waiting behind her teeth. 

“You will drop your weapon, and forget I was here.” She uses the flattest voice she can muster, but her voice cracks in fear and she resists the urge to curse. 

She can hear the blaster as it powers up, and her heart stops as she stares into the eyes of the human guard, hand still on the hilt of her saber. 

She tries again. “You will drop your weapon, and forget I was here.”

“I will drop my weapon, and forget you were here.” 

The blaster clatters to the floor, and she stares in wide-eyed awe as the man turns and starts walking the other way, probably to resume his duties. 

She watches him for half a moment in astonishment, not quite believing that that worked as well as it had. She honestly has no idea why she said it, or how she'd known that such a thing was possible. 

And then she remembers why she’s here, tucks the saber away, and bends down to grab the blaster that the man had dropped. It’s larger than Ben’s, larger than the ones he’d given her. It’s heavy in her hands as she moves along the catwalk, the heat of the plant making sweat drip down her temples as she walks as quickly and quietly as she can. There’s a lift at the end of one of them, and she aims for it, stepping onto the platform and waiting to see which direction it would take her in. It lowers with a jolt, and she’s suddenly scared that it will drop like the one she and Ben had been in. But it sticks for only a moment, and then the ride down is slow and smooth. 

Unfortunately, the ride down is also right into a security office. 

She’s staring at two humans and a Weequay, and without really thinking about it she shoots one of the humans. She’s expecting a blaster wound to the shoulder, something to disarm and distract him, but no. No, the shot’s powerful enough that it straight up kills the man, and Rey’s given maybe half a second to stare at his crumpled body in horror before the Weequay attempts to shoot at her. She dodges it and shoots at him, getting him straight in the stomach before she aims for the other man. She misses this time, and his bolt grazes her calf. She hisses in pain before trying again, catching him in the collarbone. She watches him go down and stands there, still for a moment and looking at the dead lifeforms around her. 

The droids were one thing, made of metal and wires and programmed to kill.

This. The dead lifeforms around her, killed by the weapon in her hand with little more than a twitch of her finger. 

This is something else entirely, and she realizes that she's shaking.

The blaster’s still warm in her hand, and she glances down at it. She doesn’t like it, not one bit. Killing on Jakku took more than just a movement of her finger. Killing on Jakku took kicks and tugs and punches and bites, sometimes. Killing on Jakku took effort; this took seemingly none at all. 

She glances towards the guards and nearly drops the blaster before she thinks that it’s definitely useful, definitely effective, and she lunches forward to see if any of the guards have a key card or anything of that sort. She finds an access card on one of the humans and pockets it in Ben’s jacket before walking out, the door sliding open for her with a hiss. 

These are lower catwalks, nearly at the same level as the machinery. She has to avoid sparks as they fly with the crunching of old metal parts, ducking out of the way of a compressor and nearly grinding her nose into the inside of her elbow to avoid the fumes. Her eyes water as she makes her way to the next door. She approaches it, but it doesn’t open. She tries the access card, and resists the urge to sigh in relief as the light goes from red to green. It opens for her, and she slips into the hallway. 

The lights click as they turn on with every step she takes, casting the hallway in a yellow glow. She keeps her finger on the blaster trigger, and tries to keep her steps quiet as she walks down the hallway. 

She isn’t familiar with it. This isn’t the one they went down. She knows that she’s probably on the level above the one that they’d walked through, that maybe if she walks around enough she’ll find some kind of containment level or something of that sort. 

It’s a huge building, but it’s better searching one building for one friend than an entire planet for three. 

The hiss of a door startles her, and she ducks into an alcove along the hallway as she hears the hard stomping of boots. She clutches the blaster to her chest, ready to fire. But the boots come closer, and then pass, and she watches as two workers walk by her. They’re not holding weapons, and so she doesn’t worry about them as she makes her way down the corridor, keeping her steps as quiet as possible.

None of the doors have any names except for the numbers above them, and it worries her as she makes her way down. How was she supposed to find Ben? Trial and error, she guesses. 

She stands near to one. It hisses open and reveals what she assumes is a storage room, full of crates with old droids parts scattered about to be disposed of later. She takes a quick peek in before dipping back out. 

She’s walking towards the room across from it when she hears heavy footsteps and freezes. The footsteps don't sound like the boots of the guards, but at this point any footsteps are bad footsteps, and so she ducks right back into the storage room and hides behind some of the crates, crouching on the grimy floor. She keeps her blaster ready, finger on the trigger as she tries to peek up and over the crate she’s chosen as cover.

The door hisses open, and Rey’s breath catches in her throat. She hears the footsteps get closer, can hear two pairs of them. She stays as still as she can, but as they get closer, she’s split seconds away from fighting or taking flight. There’s another footstep, and then she decides to fight. 

She stands and shoots in the general direction of the footsteps, and then hears a yelp and the hiss as the blaster shot hits the metal wall. Rey stops, eyes wide, as she stares at Poe Dameron and the hole of scorched metal in the wall behind him. His eyes turn to her and immediately soften. Rey's fully aware of the bowcaster currently aimed at her head, but it lowers within seconds as Chewie realizes who she is.

“… I admire you for your recklessness, but you need to work on your aim,” the pilot admits before he’s handing his blaster to the Wookie beside him and rushing towards her. Rey’s shocked still as Poe hugs her, tightly. “We thought we’d never find you.” He gives a little laugh, the sound loud near her ear. "Thank the Maker you're safe."

He smells almost exactly like Ben. Both men smell of engine oil, metal and musk and leather. But there’s something about Poe that’s almost clinical, like the medkit Rey’s been in the presence of a few times since her meeting them. He’s shorter, too, his grip tighter than Ben’s. But it’s comforting all the same, and she lets herself be hugged as he rubs at her back. 

“You’re stupid and rash and a genius all at the same time,” the pilot mumbles as he lets go of her. Chewie roars out an agreement, and Rey offers the both of them a relieved smile as Poe takes the blaster back from the Wookie. And then she frowns, concerned.

“What about the droid?” she demands. “Where is it?” 

“Finn’s waiting with two blasters, the droid, the speeder, and a good few amount of thermal detonators,” Poe explains. “He’s our backup, if needed.” 

“How is he?” she demands.

“Better, now that we jammed an antidote medication into him. No idea what the bastard put in his drink, but it must’ve been something strong. He was slurring and stumbling all the way back. Still a little off, but getting better with every minute. Any sign of Ben?” 

She shakes her head. “None.” 

“Kriff.” 

“My thoughts exactly,” she mutters, looking towards the door. “Have you had to … kill anyone?” 

“Two guards,” Poe explains. “Chewie got them with the bowcaster.” 

She just nods. “Do you have any idea where a detaining level might be?” 

“No kriffing clue,” Poe admits. “But we could ask?” 

She stares at him, incredulous. 

Poe jerks his thumb towards Chewie. "Wookie with a bowcaster."

“… that’s not a bad idea,” she admits.

Poe's smile is a strange thing. It's a little lopsided, leaning towards the left. It's a little dangerous, a little sharp and just a bit stupid. She finds she likes it as he throws it her way, jerking his head towards the door. “C'mon, we're gonna do this.”

-

He’s no stranger to gags. He’s had a fair few in his mouth, at varying degrees of downright grossness. But he always manages to forget how nasty it is. 

He’s just glad this one wasn’t double knotted. The laserbrain who tied it wasn’t very clear on instructions, apparently. A bit of moving his jaw, a bit of rubbing his head up against the crate he’s leaning against, and some tongue prodding, and the spit-covered fabric’s on the floor within minutes. He moves his jaw, the corners of his mouth rubbed slightly raw at the effort of getting the gag off. But hey, at least it worked. 

He’s licking at the corners of his mouth to soothe them when the guard who’d tied the gag in the first place walks in, boots heavy and blaster cocked. Ben glances up at him. 

The guard makes no move to retie the gag, but he does stare down at the smuggler with something close to disgust. Ben doesn’t like that one bit, but there’s not much he can do about it. Kicking won’t really work, not with the blaster the man has in his hands. 

He stares up into the dark eyes of the other man, and suddenly recalls his uncle’s retelling of some kind of Jedi trick on Tatooine. Something Ben Kenobi did, something about keeping one’s voice level and accessing the thoughts of the person and focusing on the Force and the way it flows from one lifeform to another. 

He can do that. Maybe. Kind of. 

“You will remove these restrains and leave your weapon.” 

He says it in the most even voice he can, stare boring into the other man’s eyes. He waits for something, anything to tell him that it worked, but instead he gets a firm kick to the stomach. He groans, curling in on himself as pain erupts through his torso. He’s just grateful he has the muscle to help protect him from the blow, though he’s entirely sure he’ll be black and blue tomorrow. 

His head’s forced up and instead of being tied around his mouth, the fabric’s forced into it. He gags audibly, resisting the urge to vomit at the sour, wet, scratchy gag in his mouth. He watches as the guard leaves, door slamming shut behind him. 

Well, hell. 

Again, he pushes the gag out, and rests his head on the cool metal floor of the storage room. He closes his eyes, tries to do as his uncle instructed him when he was little. Tried to focus on his breathing, on his own being, on the Force he should feel flowing through him. 

He feels nothing. 

Absolutely nothing. 

He clenches his eyes shut, to see if that will help. Instead it only adds to the pain that he feels in his head, and he releases the muscled he’d used, sighing instead. 

He’s no Force user. He’s not even Force sensitive. He’s, honestly, just as useless as his father, if not more so. At least his father's hailed as a war hero, and holds a position. 

He remembers the lightsaber’s hilt in his hand, how he’d known immediately upon touching it that he’d never, ever be able to use it the way his uncle could. Hell, even the way Rey could. He could hold it, sure, but he’d never be able to slash or hack at something with it. It’s just not his destiny. 

Instead, it’s hers. 

There’s something bitter in the back of his mouth, a taste that isn’t quite the remnants of the gag. He grimaces at it. No, it’s not his fate to be a Jedi, or to be Force sensitive at all. It was never supposed to be his fate, he’s starting to realize. Or rather, he realized it a long time ago. It's just setting in now, that little glimmer of a possibility extinguished when she touched that fucking saber.

Something flares in him, sharp and angry, and he extinguishes it the moment it ignites. No, he can’t feel bitter, can’t be livid with her. He’s halfway in love with her, for Hutt’s sake. He can’t hate her for having the powers, the abilities, the destiny he wants so desperately to be his. 

He relaxes against the metal floor as best as he can, trying to think of her to keep the anger at the Force at bay. Her hands, small and calloused and oh so warm. Her skin, just as warm, like the sun of her home’s been baked into her skin and doesn’t want to leave. The smell of his soap on her, the look of his leather jacket on her slim shoulders. Her hips, how close he was to her as he fixed the holster. His lips pressed to her damp hair on Takodana, and the feeling of the small, strong woman shaking against him and nearly scaring the crap out of him at how upset she is because Rey doesn't seem to be the kind to be shaken easily, by anything.

Her lips on his. Eager, nearly violent, almost entirely perfect.

He bites at his lower lip, eyes opening as the guards step through again. Burr’s not with them, this time, and Ben tenses every single muscle he’s consciously aware of in preparation for what’s to come.

-

They go a good ten minutes before they come across a guard. In little to no time at all, Poe has the man grabbed by the arm and Chewie has the bowcaster pointed at the man’s head. 

“We’re looking for Ben Solo. Any idea where he could be?” Poe asks the man who’s snarling at him with yellow teeth. 

“No idea,” the man growls. “Never heard of a Ben Solo.” 

“You sure about that?” Poe asks, raising one dark eyebrow. 

“We have a Wookie with a bowcaster,” Rey threatens casually, and Chewie growls in response, one hairy finger threatening to pull the trigger. 

“Lowest level,” the man says immediately, and Poe knocks him out the butt of his blaster, watching as the man goes crumpling to the floor. 

“You couldn’t have asked what room he was in?” Rey demands. 

“Didn’t think that far,” Poe admits, walking towards the lift at the end of the hallway. “C’mon, there can’t be that many rooms.” 

She follows him with Chewie by her side, hands clasping her own blaster as they step onto the lift. Poe presses the down button, and she’s half expecting them to drop again. They don’t, though, and even if they had it would’ve been an incredibly short fall. They go down maybe two levels before it’s stopping, the base of the shaft right beneath them. 

Rey steps off first into the flickering hallway, Poe and Chewie right behind her. It’s the same hallway they’d been through before, when they’d fallen in the lift. She thinks she can remember the door they’d gone through, so that’s out, at least, since it leads out to the floor. 

“Start checking,” she orders, and Poe strides ahead of her to start with the other doors. Some of them don’t open, and she spends some amount of time tossing the access card back and forth with Poe. She secures the blaster into the holster on her hip so that she can catch the card with both hands, turning and scanning it and checking the storage rooms before coming back. 

She’s checked maybe eight rooms when there’s a roar from Chewie, and a curse from Poe. “Rey, we found him!” 

She turns, seeing Poe and Chewie in the doorway of one of the storage rooms. She sprints down the hallway to where the other two are standing, and nearly skids into the room. 

It’s basically empty, maybe a dozen or so stacked crates in it. 

And him. 

He’s lying sideways on the floor, curled up on himself. There’s a nasty gash on his temple, and he’s lying on his injured arm. She’s sure that there’s more, that they hurt him worse than that, but she can’t see any of it right now. She drops the blaster and rushes towards him, hands finding his face and running her thumbs over the skin that isn’t too broken. “Ben? Ben!” 

There’s no answer. 

“Ben!” 

She waits for half a second, heart still in her chest, before she hears a dull groan and grins in relief. 

-

He doesn’t need to be Force sensitive to know who just entered the storage room. He doesn’t need the Force to know who’s touching his face, whose thumbs are stroking his cheeks. He doesn’t even need to open his eyes to know that Rey’s kneeling in front of him, guiding his head into her lap as he struggles to wake up from the darkness the guards had kicked him into. 

“You’re absolutely shit at following orders, sweetheart.” His words are slurred but somewhat decipherable. He hears a snort that definitely doesn’t belong to her, but doesn’t bother opening his eyes as she pokes and prods at the dried blood on his temple, testing the wound and seeing what's just blood and what's actually hurt. He winces, trying to move away from her fingers, but she tugs him right back by his hair. 

“What part of ‘get Finn, Poe and Chewie and get off this kriffing planet’ did you not understand?” he groans as she tries to examine the rest of his face. 

“In her defense, she did one out of two," Poe says. "She got us."

Her hand’s in his hair, and he sighs softly at the comfort that it brings. He presses his nose to her thigh, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the way he aches all over. “You promised." It comes out as a sigh, and he hates the way he doesn't sound angry when he's bordering on absolutely livid with her. 

“I didn’t promise you anything, Solo,” she tells him, and he just groans, trying to press even closer despite wanting to push her away and tell her - again - to escape while she can.

“I hate to interrupt, but we have to go,” Poe insists. “We don’t know when the guards are-“ 

The pilot doesn’t even finish his sentence before the door hisses open, and Ben’s jostled from Rey’s lap as she turns. He hears the heavy steps of at least two of the guards. He opens his eyes as best as he can as Chewie raises his bowcaster to one of the guards and shoots. The man goes down in a flash of red, body crumpling to the floor.

“Wait!” Rey hisses to Chewie and Poe as the other guard raises his blaster and prepares to shoot her right in the head. Ben looks up at her in horror. 

“Are you insane, kid?! He’s got-“

“You will drop your weapon and remove his restraints.” 

There’s a blink of silence before, “I will drop my weapon and remove his restraints.”

Ben watches in complete and utter awe as the blaster falls to the floor, the guard dazed. “You’ve got to be kriffing kidding me…” he mumbles, watching as the guard starts to walk towards them from his position at the door.

Rey turns Ben over as best as she can, and he’s definitely not complaining about his nose pressed to her thigh as the guard bends to undo the binders around Ben’s wrists. He brings his arms around as best as he can once they drop, grimacing at the tight soreness of his muscles from having his arms behind him for so long. 

“You will leave this room and forget we were here,” Rey says, her voice low and shockingly calm. Ben watches, rubbing at his wrists as the guard repeats her statement.

“I will leave this room and forget we were here.”

With that, he turns around and walks right out, foot accidentally kicking the blaster he’d dropped earlier. He pays no mind to it, though, and the door hisses closed behind him. Ben stares at the closed door for a good moment before he’s being hauled up by his uncle, Chewie asking him if he’s all right to walk with a soft growl. The smuggler hisses in pain as his injuries are jostled; while he doesn’t think his legs are broken, there’s a good possibility that one of his ribs is bruised or cracked. “I’m fine, Chew, someone blaster me,” he mumbles, pushing himself away from the Wookie to hold out his hand for a weapon, and nearly crumpling immediately afterwards. 

Poe’s right there to catch him as the room spins six ways sideways. “You’re in no shape to walk, let alone blast anything. Knowing your luck, you’ll manage to blast your own foot off,” the pilot mumbles as Ben relies heavily on him, wincing at the sharp pain in his abdomen. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.” 

He lets the pilot tug him through the doorway, Chewie and Rey right beside them. He glances over to the scavenger, noticing the saber on her hip and the disruptor rifle in her hands. She’s grabbed the other rifle the guard dropped, tucked between her pants and her belt since it’s too big to fit in the holster.

“I’m guessing this was your idea?” he questions, looking down at the woman on his left.

“No, her idea was to go in with no weapon and rescue you herself,” Poe informs him. “She’s got courage. I like her.” 

Ben swears that Rey lights up, the scavenger looking around Ben to give the pilot a brilliant, nearly childish grin. 

“Yeah, well, what good will it do us if she nearly got herself killed in the process?” Ben grumbles. “Not that I’m not appreciative of this whole rescue mission, but you’re all idiots who should be off-planet by now instead of lugging me.”

“Shut up and let us rescue you,” Poe scolds. 

They’re about halfway down the hallway when the door behind them opens with a loud hiss and the sound of boots hitting metal. There’s also a sort of clacking sound, like plastoid knocking against plastoid. Ben’s eyes widen, and he turns his head as best as he can to look over his shoulder. 

He curses under his breath immediately after. “Sithspit. First Order’s here.” 

“What?” Poe demands, turning his head to look as well. 

“Hey!” The word’s warped and mechanical due to the mask of the trooper, and Ben desperately wishes he had a weapon so that he could shoot the man. 

There’s the sound of a blaster being fired, and then Rey’s ducking and turning to aim her disruptor rifle at the crew of about five Stormtroopers who’ve just come through the door. Chewie aims and fires the bowcaster, taking down three while Rey quickly takes down the rest with a few shots. 

“We’ve gotta go,” Poe insists. 

“No shit,” Ben mumbles, pushing Poe’s arm away from him. “Go!” 

“Oh, for - I meant with you!” the pilot insists. Rey hands him the high-powered blaster she’d taken from the storage room as she wraps her arm around Ben’s waist, letting the smuggler drape his arm over her shoulders. She helps Ben along as Chewie and Poe watch behind them for more troopers. Ben can hear the firing of his uncle’s bowcaster a moment later as they get closer to the lift. Rey practically pushes him into the lift, jamming her fist against the button on the panel as Poe and Chewie back up onto the platform. It’s getting harder to aim, now, with the door end of the hallway being so far from them. Chewie does most of the shooting, the bowcaster hailed for its destruction rather than its accuracy. 

“There’s no up!” 

Ben looks down at Rey, who’s staring at the control panel. “What?” 

“There’s no up, it’ll only go up when someone above calls it,” she insists, pressing all the buttons she can. The elevator makes no movement, though the lights in the shaft do flicker. 

Poe ducks around. “Move,” he orders. Ben tugs Rey backwards as Poe steps forward and shoots at the panel, the metal and wires exploding in a shower of sparks. A moment later the lift’s moving upwards with a jolt that nearly sends them to the floor, but at least it’s taking them upwards. 

“Any idea where we’re going?” Ben demands, looking towards the pilot. 

“No clue,” Poe admits. “What’s with the First Order?” 

“Apparently I’m incredibly desirable,” the smuggler grumbles as the lift takes them past a few more of the floors. There aren’t any Stormtroopers shooting as they pass, so they might have a little bit of time. “They want information on the map.” 

“Of course they do,” Poe mutters as the lift takes them up and up. He looks up towards the shaft, the lights flickering above them. “What’re the chances of us being crushed between the top of the shaft and the lift floor?” 

“I've told you before, I don’t like odds.”

Both men nearly fall to the floor as they approach another floor, and Rey takes her blaster and shoots at the bottom half of the panel that hadn’t been victim to Poe’s blast. The lift stops suddenly, and they stare at the scavenger as she moves to wordlessly wrap her arm around Ben’s waist again.

It’s not a perfect stop, and there’s a good three feet of shaft they have to climb up. Rey hoists herself up while Poe pushes Ben up, offering his hands as a step for the smuggler. It puts strain on his injured arm, and the taller man hisses as he pulls himself the rest of the way up. But then Rey’s there, and she’s guiding him up with gentle hands, and he’s in just a bit less pain for the half a second that their eyes meet. 

“You should’ve gone,” he mumbles as she helps him to his feet. Their height difference is frankly laughable, but she helps him anyway, her small arm around his waist and surprising strength guiding him along. 

“If we don’t make it, Finn will take the droid to D’Qar,” she explains. 

“That is not the point I’m trying to make,” he hisses. 

Chewie roars. _Run now, fight later._

“This way,” Rey orders, and she turns down a door. It opens and reveals the top catwalk, and Ben can see on the other side a broken window that must’ve been how she entered the building. 

He pushes her arm away from his waist, now somewhat steady enough to walk on his own. He reaches back and grabs Poe’s blaster as he spots black and white across the catwalk. Poe makes some sort of noise in protest, but Ben aims and fires. The trooper goes down, body crumpling before it falls off of the catwalk and down to the floor below. His partner raises his blaster, but Ben shoots him, too. It takes two shots, yeah, but his aim isn’t that terrible. 

“Solo!” 

Ben turns around at the dealer’s voice and nearly groans. “Sithspit,” he mutters, seeing the four men flanking the older man. “Burr, I-“ he calls, trying to think of some sort of something to say to the dealer – a taunt, a jab, anything. Whatever improvised snark he’d been about to say dies behind his teeth because half a second later there’s a bowcaster bolt heading for the group. Ben watches in both horror and amazement as the bolt explodes against the catwalk, the force of it knocking Burr on his back and two of his guards off of the catwalk to fall to their death below. The other two guards are taken down by two shots of Poe’s regular blaster pistol. 

“I love that thing,” Ben tells his uncle before he turns. “You still have the bike?” 

“It’s outside,” Rey explains. “The speeder’s on one of the lower levels.” 

“Great, you go with Poe and Chewie,” he orders. 

“No, I’m going with you,” she insists as he starts to walk towards the broken window. He can feel her right on his heels, nearly beside him as she hurries to catch up with him. 

Knowing there’s no arguing with her, he just says, “Suit yourself, sweetheart,” before stepping through the broken pane, glass crunching under his boots. 

He’s incredibly lucky that he stepped out before her, because he’s nearly knocked in the face with the butt of a blaster. He ducks just in time, and with their height difference the Stormtrooper’s swing goes right over her head. It gives him time to kick the trooper back, the heel of his boot making a resounding ‘thwack’ against the plastoid armor. The man stumbles back and Ben takes the opportunity to shoot him with the blaster, sending him falling to the ground. He looks to the side and sees another trooper getting out of a speeder, and shoots him too, watching as he falls out of the vehicle and onto the roof.

“Never mind, you take that one and follow me,” he orders. “If we split up, it’ll be harder for them to try and capture us. I’ll take the bike. You have any idea how to pilot one of these things?” 

She just stares at him like he’s an idiot. He supposes he is, when he knows she built her own speeder and has been witness to her piloting his own ship. He stares back for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, okay, stupid question, never mind,” he mutters before he takes off for his bike. Out of the corner of his eye he sees her climbing into the speeder, the engine still running from the troopers.

With a lot of effort, he manages to haul the bike out from where he’d hidden it amongst the shadows of the building. A blast directs his attention to the lower platform, his hands on the bars of his bike as he watches the explosion. From his advantage, he can see Finn, Chewie and Poe in their own speeders, another one stolen from the First Order and being driven by Poe. Chewie’s at the pilot’s seat of Han’s speeder, Finn in the passenger with thermal detonators. 

“Not a bad idea,” Ben has to admit to himself as he watches at least seven troopers fall victim to the blast of one of the explosives. He holsters his blaster and mounts his bike, hissing at the strain it puts on his sore side and abdomen. He breathes through the pain as best as he can, and starts the engine of his speeder, taking off after Poe who’s already taken towards the skylanes. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rey beside him, holding her own in the unfamiliar speeder. He glances over at her, and meets her gaze quickly, throwing a nod her way before he focuses on the skylanes in front of him. The traffic of the sector’s next to none, but they still have to weave around some civilian airspeeders. He can hear cursing in languages he somewhat knows, recognizing a few choice words as he guides the speeder around a particularly slow garbage hauler. 

There’s the zip of a new speeder, and out of the corner of his eye, to his right, he sees black and white. A glance reveals a Stormtrooper hovering between him and Rey, and he watches as the trooper raises his right hand and tries to shoot the scavenger. 

Though he knows that Rey will probably sense it with whatever Force powers she’s somehow managed to develop since he handed her the lightsaber, he’s not taking a chance. He surges to the right and knocks into the speeder, jostling the Stormtrooper enough that the blaster falls from his hand and towards the levels below. Ben continues to push him until the trooper starts to push back, trying to force Ben off of his speeder. It nearly works, too; his injured arm’s giving out, his grip on the handle slipping. 

It’s Rey’s help that keeps him upright. She rams the side of her speeder into the trooper’s, and then the soldier’s focus is on her for a moment, letting Ben right himself again. 

Between the two of them, they push the Stormtrooper and hold the speeder between their own. The trooper’s weaponless, and just has to go along for the ride. He tries to speed up, but between the two speeders on either side of him, he’s stuck. He turns and tries to grapple for the blaster that Rey’d put on her side, but Rey forces the speeder to the left, sending the trooper off balance. 

Ben’s been more focused on the trooper than where they’ve been going, and so he looks up to see a building quickly approaching. His eyes widen as it approaches too soon, too fast. “Rey!” 

She looks up at him, gaze questioning, before following where he’s looking. She seems to panic the same time he does, trying to dislodge her speeder from the side of the troopers. There’s a metallic ‘clank’, and Ben watches as she tries to slow down, tries to veer to the side, anything. Between the pushing and the jostling, the side of the trooper’s speeder bike’s become hooked on the side of Rey’s. 

The building’s getting closer. Ben can’t veer all of them away from it, his speeder’s not strong enough. So he reaches around the Stormtrooper, offering Rey his hand. She takes it, letting him help her swing up and around the back of the trooper’s speeder. She pushes herself off of the one she’d borrowed and takes one step on the back of the trooper’s before she’s swinging herself over. Ben pulls away at the same time, and for a split second he and momentum are the only two things between her and the skylanes below. He tugs her harder against his speeder, and she manages to make the jump, much to his relief. He’s not entirely sure he could hold her up with his hand – not for long, at least. 

By the time her foot’s on the footrest of Ben’s speeder, it’s too late for the Stormtrooper to stop or even pull up. Both Rey’s borrowed speeder and the Stormtrooper go crashing into the steel side of the skyscraper as Ben nearly clips the side of it, tugging Rey onto his bike. 

She clings to his hand as he veers away from the crash. He glances down to see that she’d led with the wrong foot; if she was getting behind him, she should’ve led with her right, but instead she’d jumped with her left in front. Momentum has her moving, still, and he’s opening his mouth to direct her around the front when she follows his train of thought on her own and straddles his front, her sitting nearly on his lap and forcing them chest to chest. She’s closer than she’s been since their kiss, and his gaze flickers to her lips just briefly before meeting her eyes again.

He thinks about the position for maybe half of a moment, merely a flash of an inappropriate thought before she’s hooking her legs around his for support and he’s putting both hands on the handlebars again. 

“Blaster’s on left hip,” he directs, and he feels her grab the weapon. “You think you can take a few of them down?” 

“I can try,” she breathes, and he feels her recoil against him as she shoots. He’s tall enough that he can see over her shoulder fairly easily as she presses her chest against his, leaning forward to see their pursuers. There’s the sound of his blaster firing, and then a scream as someone plummets to their death behind them. 

“Nice shot,” he tells her as he makes to veer left, following Poe through the lanes. The man keeps casting glances back at them, so Ben guesses he saw what happened between them and the trooper, and is checking to make sure they’re all right. “Turning.” 

“Thanks,” she replies, and he feels her brace against him. Her free arm is wrapped around his waist, and it tightens around him as he turns sharply, nearly clipping the side of the skyscraper they’re going around in an attempt to lose the Stormtroopers who’ve followed them.

He hears another shot from his blaster, and just guides them through the skylanes as easily as he can without running into any civilian speeders. 

“Down!” 

“What?” he demands. 

“Down!” 

He dips the speeder down, watching as a shot sails by and collides with the side of a building, the glass shattering. 

“Nice call,” he breathes, staring at what could’ve very well been their death as he continues to guide them through the sky lanes. 

“Thanks,” she replies, sounding just as breathless. 

It’s his turn to see the blaster shot, this time coming from somewhere in front of them. It’s a blue thing, bright and barely visible against the lights of the city. But he swerves to avoid it, and hears Rey’s shriek of surprise as he tips them at an angle, his free hand moving to her back to keep her tight to him as he guides them right-side-up again. 

“Sorry, there’s someone above,” he explains urgently as he watches the upper levels for white figures. It’s not until he sees the next shot fired that he sees the trooper, the bolt leaving the blaster and revealing the man’s position. He reaches instinctively for for the blaster on his right hip, and scrambles at air. A quick glance down reveals an empty holster, and he remembers that they only have one weapon between them. “Sithspit,” he hisses as he glances up at the trooper. “Rey, I need the blaster!”

He feels her firing behind them. “I kind of need it!” 

“I need it more!” 

He swerves again to avoid the next shot, and feels her thighs clench around his hips as she tries not to lose her balance. They’re getting closer now, and he can clearly see the man in the white armor on a catwalk above them. 

“Hold on-“

“There is no holding on, I need it now!” Ben demands, eyes on the trooper. 

“Can you just-“ 

“Rey!” 

“Ben, I-“ she snaps, but they’re too close to him now. Any closer, and Ben’s risking losing him and adding another enemy to the amount she has to deal with behind them.

 _“Rey, I need it now!”_ he yells.

He reaches his hand back, and thank the Maker he can feel her as she forces the blaster hilt back into his palm. He wraps his fingers around the weapon and aims as best as he can while driving the speeder. It’s difficult, but he fires three shots just in case. 

The trooper goes down on the second, and he reaches back to hand her the blaster back. “Thank you!” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm as she grabs the weapon from him and begins shooting again. 

There aren’t many, now. He can’t see anymore on the walks above, but he can hear her down a few more. “How many more?” 

There’s a pause, and then, “None.” 

“What?” 

“There was one, but Finn got him with the bowcaster.” 

Her grip on him loosens slightly, and he’s grateful for the reprieve of pressure on his injuries as he guides the speeder to follow Poe out of the sector. “They’re gonna be pissed.” 

“Who?” 

“The First Order,” he explains as she settles on his lap, grip still tight enough to hold on, but slightly looser now that she doesn’t have to worry about shooting behind them. “Burr was going to give me to them. They want to know what the droid had on it that we needed. And the map, I guess.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and then she’s burying her face in his neck. “Did they hurt you?” 

“A little bit,” he lies. “But it’s nothing some bacta back at the apartment can’t fix.” And some time in the bacta tank once they get back to base, but he won’t tell her that. He’s almost entirely sure she has no idea what a bacta tank is, either, if she was shocked at the idea of the most basic medical supplies back when she burned her hand. 

“We could’ve come back for the droid,” she insists. “We could’ve both left, and then come back with the money.” 

“That would’ve worked if I had that much money,” Ben replies. “But I don’t, and they would’ve suspected something anyway. I wouldn’t have put it past him to switch the R2 unit out for another one just to see why we needed the one we have so badly.” 

She’s quiet again, and he chances letting go of one of the bars to spread his hand across her upper back. They’re mostly going straight, anyway, back towards the apartment. He holds her to him as he guides the speeder through the skylanes, slightly slower now without the threat of the troopers on their tail. 

“Thank you. For getting me,” he mumbles against her shoulder. 

“Did you _really_ think I was going to leave this planet without you?” she asks, and he snorts at the snippiness in her tone. 

“I had my assumptions,” he replies. “I just thought you would’ve been smart enough to get back up, first.” He removes his hand from her back to follow Poe around the turn, and then the apartment’s in sight. They’re both quiet as Poe guides the First Order’s speeder into the garage. Ben follows, moving his own bike a bit closer to the back to make room for his father’s speeder. Rey dismounts first, getting off of his lap and sliding to the floor as Poe comes over. 

“Is everyone all right?” the pilot demands, stepping out of the way as Chewie pulls into the garage along the two bikes. 

“Fine,” Ben replies. “Bit banged up in general, but fine.” 

“Good. That’s good,” Poe sighs, running a hand through his dark curls. “We have the droid.” 

Ben looks to where Chewie’s pulling the droid out of the speeder, the R2 unit whirring in relief as it’s set down. Ben can’t blame it; he’s relieved, too. That they made it back, and that the R2 made it as well. 

“We’ll take it back in the morning,” Ben explains as Finn climbs out of the speeder. “I need to tell Mom about the First Order. We’re marked, now.” 

“Like we weren’t before?” Finn grumbles, perhaps a bit grumpily as he walks to stand next to Poe. He’s holding the bowcaster, and hands it back to Chewie as the Wookie walks by. “You need to get off the planet as soon as possible. They don’t know our ship; they know yours.” 

“He’s right,” Poe says. “We’ll take the droid back. You take the Falcon and get as far away as you can for now.” 

Ben hates to admit it, but both of them are right. He glances down towards Rey. She looks just as tired as he feels. “… Outer Rim?” he questions, looking towards Poe. 

“It’s not a bad idea,” Poe admits. “Or at least lead them somewhere away from D’Qar.” 

“I think I can manage that,” Ben replies. “Lead them to a false base, you’re saying.” 

“Somewhere remote.” 

Ben nods. “Somewhere green,” he says, seeing Rey’s gaze snap to him out of the corner of his eye. “All right, done. We’ll leave in the morning.” 

Poe looks towards Finn. “I want to leave tonight.” 

The other man looks surprised, but a bit relieved as well. “The sooner we get out of here, the better. The First Order knows we’re here and will come looking for us.” 

“Kid, Coruscant’s huge,” Ben insists. “We could stay here for a week, and I’m willing to bet that they still wouldn’t find us.”

“I still want to leave tonight,” Poe says. “The sooner we get back to base and get this information to the General, the better.” 

“You got a ship?” 

“At the space port. One of the supply freighters from Hosnian Prime.” 

Ben nods in approval. “Leave when you want. I’m going to go … either get some bacta, or pass out, whichever comes first.” 

“Bacta comes first,” Poe tells him.

“It’s not exactly a conscious decision,” Ben replies as he starts towards the stairs. His entire torso aches, and he just knows when he tugs his shirt off that his skin will be mottled with bruises. His arm stings from the blaster wound, and he glances down, making a note to patch the coat he’s still wearing as soon as possible. The hole’s singed, and while the wound’s cauterized from the heat of the blaster, he still needs bacta. He’ll have a scar, he’s sure of it, but it wouldn’t be his first and he’s pretty positive it won’t be his last. 

He trudges up the stairs, hearing the clanking of the droid as it makes its slow process up, and three pairs of footsteps behind him. Chewie gives a soft little roar, and Ben smiles at his uncle’s offer to get him the medkit from where they’d used it for Finn a little while ago. “Yeah, Chew, that would be great,” he says, head already starting to pound again as the adrenaline dies down. 

He makes his way to his room on autopilot, before remembering that he’d given it to Rey to sleep in. He turns right back around and starts to make his way back towards the couches in the living area, intent on passing out there, when she steps in front of him and puts her hands on his chest. He blinks down at her as she starts to push him back towards his room. “I-“ 

“Go,” she orders. 

“But-“ 

She gives him that same look she’d given him when he’d asked if she could pilot the speeder; the look that tells him he’s a laser brain. “Go,” she says sternly.

“Okay,” he agrees, too tired to really argue with the spitfire of a young woman in front of him. He turns and lets himself be guided back into his bedroom. He strips himself of the coat and tosses it onto one of the chairs around the room as Rey follows him in. Chewie appears a few moments later, holding the jar of bacta and a roll of bandages. Ben sits on the bed and tips backwards, flopping back on the mattress as he hears Rey’s soft words of thanks. There are a few more words exchanged as well, Chewie’s roars and barks soft, but he tunes them out as he attempts to succumb to the exhaustion that’s been tugging at him for a while now. It was hard to get rest when he was stuck lying on his bad arm with his hands behind his back. 

He doesn’t get that far into sleep before the mattress is dipping near his hip, and he opens his eyes to see her sitting on the edge of the bed, the medical supplies in hand. “Up,” she orders. 

He sits up without a word, and tugs his shirt off to see the extent of his injuries. 

There are bruises, yes, and that gash on his head, and the wound on his arm, but as far as bones go he thinks he’s all right. Sure, they’ll probably dump him in a bacta tank when they eventually make it back to base just to make sure everything’s fine, but poking and prodding at his ribs only hurts slightly, and that’s where he’s bruised. 

“Would you stop?” she snaps, knocking his fingers away from where he’s prodding at a particularly dark bruise just to see what would happen if he pressed hard enough. “How do I do this?” 

“Dip your fingers in, scoop some up, and slather,” he explains, lying on his back so that she can reach the bruises and scrapes and gash more easily. “The bandage is probably for the blaster wound.” He closes his eyes and braces himself for the cool bacta against his skin. 

It comes a moment later, comforting in its coldness. Her small, calloused fingers come with it, and he lets himself smile a bit as he recalls imagining her taking care of him the way she’s doing now, back in that storage room. Sure, her fingers are a bit less gentle than he’d imagined, and he’d much rather not be doing this at all, but still. It’s kind of nice, he thinks, as she touches at his side to cover a bruise in bacta.

He doesn’t have to be Force sensitive to sense her anger. He opens his eyes, and tries to meet her eyes. She steadily avoids his, pretty mouth turned down into a frown as she reaches across to apply bacta to a dark bruise on his hip. He notices her cheeks are tinged slightly pink, and while that would make him feel a bit of pride usually, he just notices how she's frowning as she touches him. “... you’re mad at me," he observes.

“Yes,” she says simply, and he winces as she applies the next bit with a bit more force than necessary.

“Why?” he asks. 

She’s quiet for a moment, the only sound the slick slurping of her fingers going into the jar and their breathing. He opens his eyes to watch her as she reaches over to touch at his left pec, fingers a bit more gentle now. "You thought I’d just-" she starts, but then she cuts herself off and shakes her head. "Nothing." 

The word's practically spat, and he watches as she moves her hands over him, looking for more wounds. He opens his mouth to repeat his question, to ask her again why she’s angry with him, when there’s the sudden pull to unconsciousness, sharp in its suddenness but soothing in its darkness. He struggles against it, and realizes that she wasn't looking for more wounds at all - she was doing that mind trick sleep thing that he associates with his uncle when he was younger. He knows this feeling well, remembers being small and the darkness that his uncle sent him into occasionally when nightmares plagued him and sleep escaped him. “No,” he mumbles, but his words are slurred. “No, you don’t get to-“ 

He hates the Force, he thinks, as he succumbs. He really, really hates the Force.


	15. Coruscant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been hammering at this chapter for at least a week now. Ten rewrites (as in deleting everything and starting fresh kind of rewrite) and I'm only kind of happy with this result. Oh, well. Listening to the Erich Lee Gravity remix of Unsteady helped a lot, admittedly. Not the best chapter, but at least it's done.   
> Thanks for all the kind comments, both on here and on Tumblr. You all rock!   
> Hope you enjoy!

Waking up is a sudden, jolting experience. He’s half sure he’s falling, half sure he’s drowning when his eyes snap open to find the dark ceiling of the bedroom.

His heart’s pounding, chest heaving and breath coming in short pants as he stares into the soft darkness. Coruscant never allows for total black; there’s too much light pollution. So he stares into the grey, skin clammy and cold. 

In the few heartbeats after waking, he tries to cling as best as he can to the dream that woke him. He can, vaguely, remember black fabric and metal – a leather-covered hand that’s too small to be his uncle’s. Ben closes his eyes, trying his best to breathe through his nose and calm himself down. 

He hasn’t had dreams like that in years. Dreams of dark cloaks and mechanical masks and dark leather gloves covering artificial limbs are few and far between, now. Despite his uncle’s assurance that his grandfather tried to redeem himself, the datapads he found didn’t exactly shed the most flattering light on the man. In fact, most of them were downright terrifying, and those accounts along with his father’s contributed to long nights with little sleep and too many nightmares to count when he was younger.

His pulse is still fluttering frantically, and he feels hot despite the cold sweat covering him, so he sits up as best as he can and tosses off the blankets that were tucked around him. He swings his legs over the side, braces his elbows on his knees, and rests his face in his hands as he tries to remember the calming exercises his uncle once taught him. They do pretty much nothing, so he just runs his hand through his hair and rests the other on the mattress as he looks around the room. 

He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep – well, knocked out, really. But the sky’s still dark, so it couldn’t have been too long. 

His legs are shaky as he stands, but he feels the need to move, to touch, to do something. The window’s vast, a wall of transparisteel opening out to the city around him. He tries to walk towards it, but in his haste, he walks directly into a table, banging his shin against the side of it. 

“Krif-“ he says, hissing as he grabs at his leg and rubs at the sore skin that’s sure to bruise. Whatever was on the table falls off with the collision, and he frowns, squinting in the darkness in an attempt to see what it was. He bends, hoping to hell and back that he didn’t break something of his mother’s, but he freezes when his hand touches cool metal. 

She’d left the lightsaber. 

He picks it up after a moment, following his original route to the window and managing not to knock into anything else with the help of the city lights illuminating the rest of his way. He tests its weight in his palm as he walks to stand by the transparisteel pane, using the light from the outside city to examine the weapon. 

It doesn’t fit as well in his hand as a blaster does. He tries to find a grip that’s right, that will allow him to ignite and disengage it easily, but it doesn’t work. His hand’s too big, fingers too long. As elegant as it looks, he’s entirely sure that, if he tried to use it, he’d just end up looking like a fool. 

He turns it over and over, thumb brushing along the metal and trying to find maybe some crack, some little niche that will brush against his fingers and alight something, anything.

It never happens. No matter how many times he brushes his fingers over the curves of the hilt, it never happens. 

He hadn’t expected it to. He’s resigned, now, but it’s worth a shot. 

He hears the hiss of the door as it opens, sees her in the reflection of the transparisteel out of the corner of his eye. He can hear the sound of something being put down on a table, and then she’s getting closer, reflection becoming clearer with every step she takes towards him. 

“… how are you feeling?” she asks, coming to stand next to him. 

“Like I’ve been beaten by three thugs and knocked out,” he says wryly, not meeting her gaze and instead continuing to look down at the weapon in his hands. 

There’s a few moments of silence before she speaks. “It’s your uncle’s.” 

“Was,” he explains. “He has a new one, now.” He turns the hilt over in his hands. “It was my grandfather’s, too.” 

She’s quiet, again, watching him as he handles the weapon. “It should be yours.” 

His eyes snap up to find her looking at him, face soft and open and oh, Maker, he doesn’t deserve this woman. “It can’t be,” he says simply. “I can’t use it.” 

“Why not?” she demands, a bit snappishly. 

“Because I’m not a Force user,” he explains. 

“A Force user,” she repeats. “Like the Jedi.” 

“Like my uncle, and my mother, and my grandfather,” he explains. “And like you.” 

“I’m not a Force user.” 

“Yes, you are,” he insists. “That thing with the guards? The Force. Handling this lightsaber?” he asks, holding the weapon up for emphasis. “The Force. Knocking me out – no thanks for that, by the way – that was the Force. And I’m willing to bet whatever happened to you on Takodana, whatever happened in that storage unit, I bet that was the Force, too.” 

She stares at the weapon that’s in his hands. “And if I don’t want to be?” she asks, voice soft but insistent. 

She doesn’t get it, he realizes. She doesn’t understand the weight of all of this. Whatever rumors she heard on Jakku, whatever small stories she picked up probably didn’t go into detail about the power she can now wield. “It’s not a choice, kid.”

“I can choose not to use it,” she insists. 

“It’s not exactly something you can turn on and off, sweetheart, it’s not a light switch,” he protests. Sure, he might not feel it himself, but he’s had enough talks with his uncle to know how this whole Force thing works. “You have it, you use it.” 

“And what if I don’t want it?” she snaps, getting a bit closer to him, dark brows drawn downward in anger. 

“That’s not your choice!” 

It comes out a lot louder, and a lot harsher than he intended it to. He actually has to fight the urge to take a step back from her as she stares at him, mouth just a bit open in surprise, but angry gaze not wavering. He sighs, anger leaving him almost completely as he stares at her. He holds out the weapon to her and uses his other hand to run his fingers through his hair. 

“It’s not … it’s got nothing to do with what you want or don’t want, kid,” he mutters. “Believe me. I’d know about that. The Force doesn’t … it doesn’t choose, I guess, people who want it. It chooses the people who should have it.” He tries to shrug nonchalantly, turning to the side to lean against the side of the window. Though it stings, as it’s his bad arm, the cool transparisteel soothes his singed skin through the bandage that she must’ve wrapped around the blaster burn. “I’m not one of them.” He tries to offer her the weapon again, trying for casual while being pretty certain he’s failing miserably at it. “I can’t use it, so you should.” 

All right, so it hurts just a bit more than he thought it would’ve to say those words. He’s had the thought over and over and over again since he’d acquired the weapon, but saying that he can’t use it out loud is something else. His voice breaks just between ‘you’ and ‘should’, though he tries to hide it by extending the weapon another few inches. 

The lights of the city illuminate the entire left side of her face, sending colors across her skin and the rest of her face into stark shadow. But he can see enough to see her reluctance as she takes the weapon from him, the metal of the hilt now warm from being in his hands. He tucks both of his hands into the pockets of his pants once she takes the hilt, watching her as she examines it. 

There’s this kind of soft awe in her face. It’s kind of along the same lines of the wonder he saw when he put a pear on her plate for the first time, or when they entered Takodana’s atmosphere. This expression on her face now is similar, but not quite the same kind of innocent fascination. There’s something darker there, he thinks, in the way she looks at the weapon. Simultaneously a bit of fear, and morbid curiosity at the same time. A scavenger figuring out how she could use something to her advantage.

It’s as beautiful as it’s terrifying as it’s also kind of … endearing, honestly. 

He wonders, just a quick flicker of a thought, if he’d looked the same way when examining his uncle’s current lightsaber for the first time. A sort of terrified awe of its possibilities, of what he could do with it. 

It was a moment later when he found out that he could do absolutely nothing.

“I can’t use it,” he repeats, watching as her eyes snap from the weapon back up to him. “So you might as well.” He shrugs. 

He’s not expecting her arms around his neck, pulling him down and closer. He’s not expecting the cool, damp press of her hair against the side of his face, and he’s not expecting the softness of the loose shirt that she must’ve put on after a visit to the fresher. 

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her against him. Maker, she’s small in his arms, he thinks as he bends slightly to hold her close. Small and warm, skin hot beneath the fabric of the shirt. He closes his eyes and just holds her, smiling softly. 

“You might be able to use it, some day,” she says, and her voice is so hopeful near his ear he hates to shut her down. 

“That’s not how the Force works, kid,” he admits softly. “But it’s all right. It’s fine, really.” 

She pulls back just slightly, to rest her forehead against his chest, and the pressure makes him hiss in pain. She yanks herself back almost immediately, the fingers that aren’t holding the weapon poking and prodding at the bruises that have faded considerably but still hurt. “You need more bacta,” she explains, voice harder now as she frowns at the yellow mottling across his chest. He can feel her fingers sticking to his skin slightly, residue left over from the previous application, and watches as she strokes her fingertips along his skin, trying to assess the damage. 

“All right.” He won’t protest to bacta, especially not when applied by her. “Just don’t knock me out this time, all right? I mean it, kid.”

He looks down at her, really looks down at her, and frowns. The shirt she’s wearing is huge; it reveals a good portion of her collarbone, and her left shoulder. He can see the skin’s covered in freckles, and resists the urge to brush his fingers across them in favor of looking down her body. The shirt’s an old, cream-colored thing, her damp hair staining the shoulders of it. It falls mid-thigh, though she’s belted it, and he can see slender legs peeking out from the bottom. He watches as she hooks the lightsaber onto the belt she’d brought from Jakku, the weapon ready for use if needed. 

His eyes return to her face, one eyebrow lifting as he puts two and two together. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“My clothes smelled like the recycling sector,” she explains, and okay, yeah, that makes sense to him. As does her wet hair – she probably used the shower while he was knocked out. 

“How long was I out for?” he asks, frowning as he runs a hand through his hair and walks to the bed. He can hear her behind him, looking for the jar of bacta. 

“About three hours,” she replies. “Poe and Finn left an hour ago.” 

He spins around and nearly trips over his own big feet. “What?” he demands. 

“They took the droid and left for D’Qar about an hour ago.” She’s found the jar, and is walking over with it. He can see now how the shirt brushes against the bare skin of her thighs as she walks, how the fabric shifts on her shoulders to reveal even more freckled skin. She uses the hand not holding the bacta to tug it right back into place, though he kind of wishes she left it so that he could see her. She struggles with the jar lid before it releases with a soft ‘pop’, and then she’s pushing him by his shoulder to sit on the edge of the bed. She straddles him, to his surprise and shock, knees braced on the bed as she sets the jar aside and seems to think nothing of their position. “Poe has a comlink. He’ll get in touch with us when they enter the system, and let us know what they recover from the droid.” 

“Oh.” It comes out slightly choked, much to his embarrassment. 

It’s smarter, in the long run. The First Order knows he’s here, knows that he escaped. To take the droid on the Millennium Falcon would’ve been a horrible, stupid decision that would’ve probably gotten them all killed, but a part of him still wanted to be the one to deliver the map to his mother. It’s silly, and a bit childish, but he finds himself regretting it anyway as he stills so that Rey can apply the bacta to the remaining bruises. 

“And we’ll leave in the morning,” he mutters as she spreads the salve across his skin. Her touch is softer than before, and he hasn’t been knocked out yet – maybe he’s escaped her fury, for now. 

“You said something about the Outer Rim,” she replies. 

“Throw them off track,” he explains. “Dantooine, maybe. There’s an abandoned Rebel base there we can hunker down in, see if it’s livable. Stay there for the time being.” 

He looks up. She’s still looking down at his chest, so he leans his head down, trying to meet her eyes. She stops when his gaze meets hers, fingers stilling on his chest. 

“There’s lots of green,” he tells her. “Green, and rivers, and lakes.” 

Her smile’s soft as she finishes spreading the bacta on his skin. She dips her fingers into it one more time, and reaches up to spread it where he’d been hit in the head. He can feel the bruise blossoming along his temple, and it hurts a bit as she touches it, but he knows it’ll be better in the long run. They’ll have to check for a concussion, he knows, but so far he thinks he might be in the clear. Lights don’t bother him, or at least the city ones didn’t, and he isn’t vomiting, so he might be all right. 

“There’s Dantooine,” he explains as she pulls her fingers back from his temple and reaches for the bandage around the blaster burn. “And Dubrillion. They have oceans, there. And once this is all calmed down, I’ll take you to Naboo.” 

His memories of Naboo are bright, pretty things. He doesn’t have many of them; his mother visited there rarely, but he does have a few memories of sprawling green and blue and natural beauty. If he’s going to take her anywhere and watch her be completely breathless, he’ll take her there. 

She’s silent as she unwraps the bandage around his arm. He frowns, trying again. 

“They have lakes,” he explains. “They have lakes, and rolling hills of green, and it’s one of the most beautiful planets in the galaxy.” He tries to meet her gaze. “And I’m going to take you there, all right?”

She’s still quiet, touch a bit more harsh as she pulls the bandage away from his skin. He hisses softly, and she apologizes with a quick, “Sorry,” but it’s brief and a bit sharp. 

“Hey,” he tries, frowning. “What’s-“

“And you just thought I’d go there without you.” 

And there it is. There’s the argument that she’d legitimately knocked him out to avoid. He watches as she sets the bandage on the bed, watches as she pokes and prods at the burn. He hisses softly at her touch, and it turns gentle almost immediately. “Sorry,” she says again, but it’s softer this time. 

“Kid,” he starts. “I don’t know how much you know about the Skywalkers, or the Solos, but we don’t really have the best luck.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” she mutters as she dips her fingers into the bacta. 

“It means that there might be times when we’re separated,” he admits. “And during those times, I want you to sa-“

“No.” 

He blinks at her sudden, harsh protest. “What?” 

“If you’re going to tell me to save myself, then no,” she snaps, gentle fingers a stark contrast to her voice. “If you don’t leave me, then I don’t leave you. That’s the deal, Solo.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but she turns to glare at him and anything he might’ve said dies on his tongue. It snaps shut with a ‘click’, and he just turns his head to watch her as she examines the burn. “… how is it?” 

“Healing fast,” she explains. “Does it still hurt?” 

“A bit, yeah,” he admits. “It’ll take another round of bacta after this one to be fully healed. It’ll scar, too.” 

She says nothing as she applies more of the goop to his skin, and then wraps it back up carefully. When she’s finished, she secures the lid of the bacta and sets it beside them, but doesn’t move from his lap. Instead, her hands find his shoulders, keeping her steady as she looks down at him. 

“I don’t know much about ship crews,” she admits. “But I know that if their captain is in danger, they don’t just fly off and leave him.”

… all right, so it sounds a lot stupider when she says it like that. “Yeah,” he agrees somewhat weakly. He looks up at her, giving her a slightly exasperated smile. “Can you … can you just promise me that you’ll _wait for the backup_ next time? Seriously, kid, you really could’ve gotten yourself killed, you know that? If you call for backup, you wait for the backup, you don’t just kick a window in and go running, all right?” 

Her smile’s softer now, almost shy, and he meets it with a grin of his own. 

“Thank you,” he tells her. “For coming back for me.” 

“You came back for me.” 

“That wasn’t exactly a life-threatening rescue mission. That was turning the ship around. There’s a distinct difference, kid. There weren’t exactly guards on Jakku, or blasters, or Stormtroopers.” He snorts, shaking his head. “… but, still. Thank you. Despite the fact that you almost got yourself killed.” 

Her expression isn’t entirely readable, so he just leans forward to brush his lips against her cheek. It’s a safe bet, he thinks, after what happened in the facility. She stills on his lap immediately, and he suddenly thinks that there’s a good possibility that he’s screwed up. He’s pulling back to apologize when she surges up to hug him tightly, so hard that his chest aches from her pressing against the bruises. He laughs softly, patting at her back in an attempt to get her to loosen her grip. She doesn’t take his hints, though, and he laughs again. “We’re not dying, kid,” he teases. “We’re safe, all right? No need to maul me.” 

Her grip loosens a bit and he hears her soft laughter by his ear as well as a small, “Sorry.” 

“No harm done, kid.” 

His left hand moves to the small of her back as his other reaches for her hip, but he pulls back when his fingers knock into the weapon at her side.   
Both of their gazes are drawn to the hilt as he runs his thumb over the cool metal. 

“… you want to be able to use it,” she says, and he doesn’t meet her eyes as he nods. 

“More than anything,” he admits, voice rough. “You have no idea.” 

“I’m sorry,” she says, immediately, and he shakes his head. 

“No, it’s fine, I realized it a long time ago. It’s kind of an age thing. You don’t show by a certain age, you’re not Force Sensitive. But I just kinda hoped that I might be. And then Maz handed it to me…” He stills, and then shakes his head. “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anything anyway.” 

Her hands come around to cup his cheeks, and it’s not until her fingers are brushing his cheeks that he realizes he’s crying. “Sithspit,” he mumbles, knocking her hands away and wiping his tears himself. “It’s fine, really. I don’t know – I don’t know why I’m-“ he starts, but then his voice cracks and Maker, why did it have to be her? Poe knows, Poe could’ve helped him through this in minutes, maybe. Cry, over, done. But her? He’s not sure. 

“It’s fine,” he tries, though his voice cracks again. “I’ve known for a while. I just-“ 

His chest clenches with the urge to sob and he pulls back, bowing his head and trying to pull away from her. He pushes at her hips, trying to get her off of him so he can go to the fresher. “I’m fine,” he insists. “I just need to - need to splash some cold water or something.” He offers her what he can of a shaky smile, meeting her concerned gaze as he guides her off of his lap to sit on the bed next to him. “I’m fine.” 

He feels her hands on his back, her warm palm gliding down the bare skin of his spine, and that’s what breaks the bantha’s back. In seconds he’s outright sobbing and pretty sure he’s scaring the kriff out of her in the process. 

She’s still for a few moments before she climbs right back on top of him, straddling him with her legs settling around his hips and curling behind him. She’s tall enough now, sitting on his thighs, that she can guide his head down and he goes willingly, arms wrapping tight around her as he lets his forehead rest against her shoulder. 

_Can I have a lightsaber like you, Uncle Luke?_

_When you become a Jedi, Ben, you can._

He nearly chokes as her hand slips up to cup his neck, fingers moving through the soft strands at his nape in an attempt at comfort. The other finds his cheek, thumb rubbing his skin in a touch that’s so parental, so like his mother’s when he had nightmares that it sends him into a new wave of sobs. 

He hasn’t cried like this in years. Not since the massacre, not since everything went to hell and his uncle disappeared seemingly without a trace. Not since he got the call, off D’Qar and somewhere near Nar Shadda, from his frantic mother asking if he’d heard from his uncle or any of his friends at the Jedi Academy. She’d felt it, she insisted. She’d felt them all. 

He thinks of it as both a blessing and a curse that he didn’t. 

He’d had Chewie, then. He’d had Chewie to pat his back and roar in mourning for the friends who tried to teach him what they could despite his lack of powers. The friends that let him sit with them in the training rooms sometimes, let him sit cross-legged with them as they meditated and let him watch them as they battled with training sabers. 

His grip on Rey tightens, but she doesn’t protest. She just lets herself be pulled closer to him, the fabric of the shirt she’s wearing sticking to the bacta on his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, once he can manage it. “I’m sorry, I just-“ 

“I can feel it,” she admits, and Maker, he didn’t even think of that. It makes him feel even more awful, and he loosens his grip on her as he leans back. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes again. “I’m so sorry.” He can’t tell what of her shirt is damp from her hair and what’s damp from his tears, honestly. 

Her lips press to the bruised skin of his temple in a small gesture of comfort, and he lets his eyes slip closed as she cups his cheeks again. His breathing’s still shuddery, and he’s pretty sure he gave himself the hiccups when one suddenly erupts and he pulls himself away from her as another one follows soon after.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, though this time it’s for a different reason as he hiccups yet again and ends up jostling her from the instinctive movement. And then he’s laughing as another one crops up, and then he’s laughing and crying at the same time and also pretty sure she’s looking at him like he’s insane. 

Given his family history, he wouldn’t entirely be surprised if he was. But he just tries to hold his breath to keep them from coming, and after a few moments of lightheadedness they go away and he looks up at her again. 

Her expression is both amused and concerned, one side of her mouth quirked up slightly with her brows furrowed. “Are you all right?” 

“No,” he admits, because his chest aches from his sobbing and his injuries and he’s sure his cheeks and eyes are red. “But I’m better.” He turns to press a kiss to her palm as she raises a hand to cup his jaw again. “We should get some sleep. We need to get out of here early tomorrow. The sooner the better. I’d leave tonight, but I don’t want to.” He jerks his head towards the door. “I can go sleep out in the living room.” 

“We’ve already shared a bed,” she insists. “It’ll be fine.” 

“Yeah, well,” he starts, but he can’t really think of a good excuse as to why they shouldn’t. They’d done it before, and while he got next to none in terms of sleep, it didn’t work out too badly. So he just shrugs, and nods. 

“Yeah, all right,” he admits. “You gotta get off of me, though.” 

She does, slipping off of his lap. He misses her warmth immediately, and watches as she walks around to the other side of the bed. Her fingers fumble with the belt around her waist, pulling it off and setting it on the bedside table. He watches as she hesitates over the lightsaber, and then unclips it from the belt to rest just on the edge of the table, close to the bed. 

“I really hope you won’t need that tonight,” he admits, though he knows for a fact that his own table has a blaster in the drawer. He hopes he won’t have to use that, either. 

“Me too.” 

He watches as she slides beneath the covers, pulling her legs up. His breath catches when he sees a good deal more of her leg than she probably realizes, almost seeing the curve of her ass as she pulls the covers up and slides down to rest against the pillows. 

Ben realizes, a bit belatedly, that he’s still sitting on top of the covers. He also realizes that his face is still tear-soaked, and that he should probably get up and wash it. “I’ll be back,” he mutters, standing and walking to the fresher. He hears the rustling of her moving as he makes his way into the room and walks towards the sink, running the coldest water he can manage before splashing his face with it. 

He looks like shit, he thinks once he looks at himself in the mirror. The bruise at his temple’s a nasty thing, the cut near it not much better. It’s in too much of an awkward place to bandage, so he’s left looking at the gruesome gash that’s slick with bacta. It’s sealed over, mostly, and probably won’t scar, but it’s nasty anyway. It stings as he splashes cold water on it again, but the pain’s grounding. 

The bruises on his chest don’t look as bad. Some of them are still dark, but they’re leagues better than what they’d been before. Satisfied with the healing process, and feeling a lot better from the water, he makes his way back into the bedroom to find that Rey’s already curled up. Her breathing’s deep and even as he walks back around his side of the bed and slips beneath the covers to lie beside her. 

She wakes up almost immediately, brown eyes finding his in the dark as he turns towards her. 

“I’m fine,” he insists, answering the question she didn’t ask but he knows she was asking. “Really. Sleep.” 

She says nothing as her eyes slip closed, though he does notice her scooting just a bit closer to him. He lets himself smile a bit at the slight movement before he closes his eyes as well and slips into sleep beside her. 

-

“I know.” 

He wakes to her voice, soft as it is, and cool sheets beside him. 

“No.” 

He frowns, blinking in the bright light of the early morning. He scrunches his eyes shut again almost immediately. 

“No, no infection. I don’t think anything internal.” 

He stretches a bit and hears her footsteps as she walks across the floor. 

“Dantooine.” 

He blinks, opening his eyes again and turning over towards her voice in an attempt to find her. He squints in the light and finds her near the window, looking out over the city with the comlink in her hand. Ben can just barely hear the soft mumbling of Poe’s voice. 

“I’ll let you know,” she assures the pilot, looking over towards the smuggler. If she’s surprised to see him awake, she doesn’t show it. He watches her as she turns towards him, leaning against the pane of transparisteel with her free arm crossing over her chest. 

“I’ll tell him,” she says. “Let us know what you find.” 

Poe’s response is too soft for Ben to pick out words, but it sounds positive as the link shuts and she walks back with the device in her hand. 

“They’ve just entered the Ileenium system,” she explains as she comes closer. “He wanted to know how you’re feeling.” 

“Sticky,” he admits. “But better.” 

“Your head’s looking better,” she tells him as she sits on the side of the bed. She reaches out towards his temple, fingers brushing gently against the bruised and broken skin. “Poe’s going to tell us what they find in the droid.” 

“I hope for our sake they find the entirety of that map,” he mutters. “I’m not going on a wild bantha chase. And no way in hell am I finding another droid dealer.” 

“Or you find another droid dealer, and don’t piss him off,” she retorts. 

“Easier said than done,” he admits, pushing himself up by his arms. “I’m going to use the fresher. You need to?” 

She shakes her head. “Go ahead.” 

“Great.” He actually has to peel the sheets off of him. He grimaces at the feeling. “Yeah, okay, fresher it is. Tell Chewie that we’re heading out as soon as I get out. The sooner we leave, the better. We’ll eat breakfast on the Falcon. Any word on if Grippa delivered the blasters?” 

“I can ask,” she replies. 

“Chewie will know,” he says as he stands. Almost everything feels tight and strange, borderline painful, and he winces as he nearly stumbles in his attempt to walk straight. She’s up and reaching for him, but he waves her off. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just sore,” he admits as he walks towards the fresher. 

The hot water of the shower is nearly scalding. While the pressure of it angers some of the bruises on his chest, the heat of it soothes his sore muscles and makes him sigh in soft pleasure as some of the pain’s relieved. He’s entirely sure he stands there for a good fifteen minutes just doing nothing in an attempt to get some of the soreness to go away. 

By the time he comes out, chest bacta-free and no longer smelling of the foul fumes of the recycling facility, Rey’s already dressed and pulling her hair back into the three buns. He notices the lightsaber on her left hip, along with two blasters that she must’ve pulled from their family’s stash in the office, thanks to Chewie. He has to admit it makes him feel a bit more comfortable, knowing that she has at least three weapons on her just in case. 

“They were delivered,” she tells him as he pulls a pair of dark blue pants and a cream shirt from his closet. He pulls the shirt on first, hissing softly as the movement pulls at his bad arm. She stops what she’s doing to look over at him, worried, but he waves her off. 

“Just hurt a bit,” he tells her. “Mind telling Chewie that I’ll be ready in ten?” 

She hesitates, but eventually nods and leaves the room. With her gone, he pulls his pants on and grabs his own blasters to put in his holsters. 

The jacket he grabs is his father’s, he knows. It’s older than he is, and shows it. His father’s actually patched some of it with bonding tape instead of actually getting it repaired, but Ben resorts to wearing it when he goes to some of the lower levels – even lower than last night. No point in wearing a nice, new jacket when there’s a good chance it could get ruined. Despite the amount of cantina and bar fights that it’s been in, the thing’s still holding up with its dark brown leather and several pockets. 

He’s tugging his boots on when she comes back into the room, grabbing her own jacket from the chair where she’d left it and pulling it on. “Chewie’s ready when we are.” 

“You tell him where we’re going?” 

“Not yet.” 

“It’s fine, I’ll tell him,” he replies as he stands, checking his blasters, his ammo and his hair once before he walks towards her. “… about last night-“ 

“I’m sorry,” she interrupts, and he offers her the best smile he can while shaking his head. 

“It’s fine. I realized it a long time ago. It just … kinda all came out at once. I’m fine, I’m good. As soon as we find Uncle Luke, we’ll get him teaching you, all right?” He reaches out to grasp at her shoulder, awkward smile turning into a grin. “I’m sure he’s going to love you.” 

He lets her go and walks out, nearly running into Chewie in the process. “Dantooine,” he says immediately. “I’m taking her to Dantooine.” 

His uncle whines softly in response, nodding in approval of his nephew’s decision. In terms of leading the First Order astray, it’s a fantastic choice. Completely on the other side of the galaxy from D’Qar, it would confuse any ship tracking them. The uncle roars another question of ‘How are you feeling?’ 

“Better,” Ben replies. “I’ve been through worse, you know that. No bacta tank this time.” He has to reach up to clap his uncle on the shoulder on the way down to the garage. “C’mon, before someone finds us.” 

-

The trip to the spaceport’s uneventful. It’s when they get inside that gets a bit trickier. 

They’d taken the trooper’s speeder to the spaceport, intent on leaving it there for someone else to deal with or steal. "Free speeder to anyone who wants it," Ben says as they park it just outside of the port. Rey climbs from the passenger seat as Chewie gets out of the back, the large seat having been better for the tall Wookie. 

All’s well as they make their way through the lobby towards their docking bay. Their bay door’s just a few turns away when a door opens, and through it Ben sees a glimpse of unmistakable black and white. 

He wordlessly tugs Rey, who hadn’t seen the soldiers, back into an alcove. Chewie takes the opposite one as Ben presses the scavenger behind him, hand inching towards his blaster as three of the Stormtroopers start making their way towards the trio. Ben glances at Chewie, nodding at the bowcaster before shaking his head. The space is too small; with their luck, they’ll all die. Ben grabs his blaster pistol, finger already on the trigger as the three soldiers clomp by them. 

Chewie grabs and punches one of them in the helmet as Ben shoots the one closes to him. He feels Rey beside him, and watches in awe as a shot from her blaster hits the third, sending him to the floor. He looks down to see that she’s reached around him, hand holding the blaster having snaked around his side. She lowers her weapon as he turns back to look at her, giving her an impressed look before nodding and looking down at the troopers at their feet in a very populated spaceport. 

“… yeah, we might have a problem.”


	16. Coruscant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to any new readers I might have! I know that I may have a few since a popular Reylo blog on tumblr reblogged my edit for this story. Here's to hoping I'm up to your expectations!  
> A bit of a shorter chapter tonight - sorry, but I guess you'll see why.   
> Hope you enjoy!

Ben knows he’s done a few stupid things in his lifetime. Trying to steal the Millennium Falcon fresh out of the hangar at 13 was one of them, as was going to Nar Shadda with only one blaster. He can also put down accepting a neon orange drink from an attractive guy on the lower levels of Coruscant, trying to lie to his mother – ever, and attempting to outdrink his father as some of his stupider decisions. 

Now, he thinks, he can add killing Stormtroopers in public view as one of his stupidest. 

He sighs as he looks down at the pile of black and white-covered bodies, running a hand through his hair as his brows raise almost to his hairline. “Well…”

“Do you think they found the Falcon?” Rey demands, looking up at him. He glances down at her, and isn’t exactly surprised at her wide, concerned eyes. 

“No idea,” Ben admits. “But I don’t think the odds are particularly in our favor, right now.”

Chewie roars softly, nodding downwards. 

Ben stares back down at the three Stormtroopers they’d just knocked out – or killed, really, depending on how hard Chewie’d hit the one closest to him. He glances up at his uncle. 

“I don't know, you got any ideas on what to do with them?” he demands. 

Chewie just roars again, shrugging. 

“I don’t care what Dad says, a trash compactor is not the answer to everything!” Ben insists as he steps over the bodies to look around the hallway. He spies a door, smaller than the ones to the bays and a few steps to their left. He rushes over, glancing at the coded keypad. “Utility closet. C’mon. Think you can open it for us, kid?” 

Rey’s already crawling out of the small space he’d pushed her into and stepping over the Stormtroopers. She jogs over to him, bending to look at the pad. “Should be simple enough,” she admits. Ben watches as she hits at the pad, her nose scrunching in effort as she pries the panel open with small fingers. A few pulled wires and some rearranging later, the door slides open. She looks to him with a proud grin, extra wires in her palm. 

“Those necessary?” he asks, looking down at the mass of tangled color in her hand. 

“No,” she says matter-of-factly. 

“Good enough for me,” he says, and he bends to yank one of the troopers up. He drags the soldier by the arm, the plastoid armor scraping against the floor of the corridor. With Chewie’s help, he shoves the three Stormtroopers into the small closet with cleaning supplies. He has to hold them in as Rey connects two wires and the door slides shut. He lets them go as the door closes with a metallic ‘clang’, and then looks towards his copilot and second mate. 

“… anyone wanna bet this place is swarming with those bastards?” he asks. “I’m betting 100 credits, anyone wanna go higher?” 

“Ben,” Rey says warningly as the sound of footsteps starts to come from the right. 

“Right,” he mutters. “Blasters.” 

They dart back down the corridor, hiding again back into the alcoves. This time Ben stays behind Rey, who has her blaster out and ready should they need it. Ben’s arm stays above his head, blaster also ready to fire as he looks around the corner. He keeps his other hand on Rey’s hip, watching her glance down at his touch out of the corner of his eye. 

A family of four humans rounds the corner, and Ben lets out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as they walk and talk past the group. Rey’s still against him, watching the family go. He has to nudge at her hip to get her to move, feeling as she startles back into him at the touch.

“Left,” he mumbles, and Rey slides to the left, peering at the corridor they need to go down. Ben doesn’t dare let go of his blaster as he follows her gaze, watching for any more soldiers. Chewie lowers his bowcaster, but Rey holsters her blaster and unclips the saber. Ben watches as she slips the weapon up so that it’s concealed in the sleeve of the jacket, ready if needed but hidden from sight. 

“C’mon,” he mutters, starting to walk down the hallway again. “Before any more come along.”

They manage to get past four more doors before another group of Stormtroopers turns down the corridor, coming from the hallway the three need to go down. Ben curses softly, flattening himself behind an archway and holding Rey back with him as Chewie howls, startling the Stormtroopers into firing randomly. The soldiers are far enough away that blaster shots aren’t exactly the most accurate; it’s both a blessing and a curse, Ben thinks as he pulls his out and starts shooting back, wincing every time one of them gets a bit too close to him or Rey. 

“Watch it!” he hisses, tugging the scavenger back against his chest as one bolt gets a little too close for comfort and nearly singes her. Not two seconds later she’s yanking her arm from his grasp and shooting as well, the hand not holding the saber gripping her blaster.

He aims and shoots towards one of the front troopers. He watches as the soldier goes down, wincing at the sound of the plastoid armor hitting the metal floor of the port hallway. 

It takes longer than Ben’d like – the Stormtroopers are a bit trigger happy, and as a result he spends more time hiding than he does shooting. But with Rey’s help, they manage to get them down in a few dozen shots. Chewie roars softly in praise at her aim, and she manages a quick nod before looking towards Ben.

“What now?” Rey demands. 

His eyes snap to the end of the corridor, where it should split off into two more hallways. “Now we go down the hallway they just came out from, the right one,” Ben mutters. “We have the best luck, don’t we?” 

Chewie grunts. 

“I wasn’t serious.” 

They manage to run down to the end of the hallway without issue. 

“What should we-?” Rey asks, looking down at the fallen men. 

“Leave ‘em,” Ben insists. “We don’t have time.” 

He leads them down to the right, trying to keep his footsteps as light as possible in case of another ambush. Nothing comes for a good twenty steps, but he’s not one to be too optimistic. 

“How much more?” Rey demands. 

“We’ve got a left and then another right,” he tells her. “It’s a spaceport on a planet with over a trillion occupants – it’s exactly a small place.”

He thanks the Maker that they manage to get down that passage without anyone jumping out at them. He runs left and stops dead, throwing his arm out to stop Rey. She runs right into his arm, and he hears her irritated, “Hey!” as he stares at the two troopers down the end of the hallway. 

Screw silence – they’ve already fucked up, and he has no doubt that the rest of the Stormtroopers already know of their presence. So he looks towards his uncle, nodding towards the bowcaster.

“Chewie,” he mutters. 

The Wookie roars softly, drawing the attention of the two soldiers at the end of the hallway. But by the time they turn to raise their blasters, the bowcaster’s bolt is already exploding on the floor in front of them, knocking them off their feet and to the floor. 

“That was easier than expected,” Ben admits. “C’mon, one more.” 

He rushes down the hall and jumps over the fallen Stormtroopers. He nearly skids across the metal floor when he sees what must be twenty or more armored soldiers standing at their docking bay door. It's too many; he hates odds, but he has to admit that three against about twenty isn't exactly a favorable statistic. 

“Hey!” one of them yells, blaster raising.

“Nope!” Ben yelps, eyes widening as he runs right back and nearly bumps chest-to-chest into Rey. She stares up at him, brows furrowing in confusion.

“What-?” Rey starts as he grabs her hand and starts tugging her along. 

“Too many, gotta run! C’mon, Chewie!” he says quickly, but stops and throws his arm out to stop her from running on as three more Stormtroopers turn down the hallway. “Sithspit…” 

“You! Stop!” one says, voice warped and mechanical from the mask. On instinct, Ben points and shoots blindly, getting one as Rey manages to hit the other two with only one miss, the shot hitting the wall behind them. 

The sound of a blaster shot has Ben whirling around as about half of the large group comes around the corner they’d just turned. There are at least ten, easy. Though Chewie finishes the last one behind them, it’s ten to three. Still not good.

“We’re not gonna make it,” Ben insists. 

His gaze snaps down to Rey at the sound of the lightsaber activating, blinking at the girl whose face illuminated blue. She glances to him, as if asking if it's a good idea to use the weapon against them, and he just shrugs. “… yeah, okay, we can try that,” he admits. 

The Stormtroopers take a noticeable step back at the weapon. Ben counts maybe half a heartbeat before they overcome their shock and start shooting again. He tries to keep up, aiming and shooting as Rey lunges forward to slash at them. Three go down in one swipe, and he has to admit he’s impressed as he gets two more. Chewie roars and shoots two, careful to avoid the scavenger as she plunges the blade onto the stomach of one of the soldiers. Ben bites his tongue as he gets three more, and Rey takes care of the last two, the harsh burning smell of melted plastoid filling the small corridor as she stands over the slain soldiers. He stares at her as she looks back at him, and he smirks, raising a brow at her as he walks forward to join her.

“Remind me not to piss you off,” Ben mutters as he makes his way over the bodies. He reaches out a hand to help her as Chewie just takes one long stride over the black and white armored men. 

There are still seven waiting for them as they turn the corner, but Ben and Rey duck along the corner as Chewie shoots two bolts from the bowcaster. The first knocks out the front three while the second gets two in the back. Ben’s two blaster shots take down the last two, and then they’re running towards the docking bay. 

The door slides open, and Ben stops in his tracks as he notices the blue light enveloping his ship. “You’ve gotta be kriffing kidding me…” he groans. 

Of course. He's Ben Solo; of course it wouldn't so easy to just hop in his father's ship and fly away. Of course their ship had to be held down by a tractor beam. He groans, running his hand down his face as his mind reels a mile a minute in an attempt to come up with some harried, slap-dash kind of a plan.

“What is it?” Rey demands, glancing towards him in confusion.

“Tractor beam. They use it to hold ships of wanted criminals. One of those bastards must’ve gotten up to the control room and triggered it. We’re not going anywhere with that,” he insists. “We need to get up there and disable it.” 

“Where is it?” 

“Hell if I know,” he admits, looking towards Chewie. “You stay and shoot anyone who comes inside this bay. You need another blaster?” 

The Wookie shakes his head, gesturing to the ammo across his chest, and Ben makes a face and tilts his head in a sort of ‘yeah, okay,’ motion. 

“Right, I keep on forgetting you have that,” the smuggler says before he grabs Rey’s wrist. “You’re with me. We need to find a way to that control room.” He runs with her out of the bay, turning a sharp right and running to the end of the hallway.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” she demands as he turns and runs left, towards where he’d seen the tractor beam coming from. 

“None at all,” he admits as he hails a right quickly. She follows him, running alongside him as he tries to navigate their way to the tower. 

He turns a left and nearly runs right into another Stormtrooper. The soldier stops, just as surprised as Ben is. 

“Fu-“ he mutters, eyes going wide. He doesn’t even finish the curse before Rey slashes the soldier down from behind. He watches the man crumple and glances to her, impressed. 

“You’re getting the hang of that,” he admits. “C’mon.”

He’s about to turn right when she grabs his wrist to stop him. “What?” he demands. 

“This way,” she orders, pulling him along to the left. 

“Why this way, the control room’s probably to the right!” he insists, but runs alongside her as she takes another left. 

“No, it’s not,” she protests as they sprint down the hall. He nearly runs right into her back as she stops directly in front of a steel door that looks a lot like the utility closet they’d shoved the Stormtroopers into before. It even has the same panel, and Ben wants to groan. 

“Kid, that’s a closet, we’re not gonna-“ 

She’s already prying the panel off, though, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes as he opens his mouth to tell her they don’t have time, they need to go to the left.

“Rey-“ he starts, but the door slides upwards instead of sideways, and he’s left staring at the inside of a lift as Rey closes the panel again.

“You were saying?” she asks breathlessly as she steps inside the lift. “Come on, it’s up here.” 

“I was saying that you’re brilliant,” he says as he squeezes in beside her. The lift’s small, so they’re pressed practically chest to chest as she presses the button that sends them upwards. 

It’s a short ride up to the control room. The lift opens directly out into the room itself, and so they’re given no warning to the slew of bodies strewn across the floor. He feels Rey stiffen beside him as they gaze out across the six or so officers who have been slain. 

“That’s just unnecessary,” Ben mutters, stepping out of the lift. He glances down towards the girl beside him and his heart aches as she stares out at the crumpled figures, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted in horror. 

“That’s the First Order,” Ben admits. “They train to kill.” 

“Finn-“ she starts. 

“Finn’s Finn,” Ben declares, because that’s the easiest explanation he can come up with for the question she hadn’t asked yet. “C’mon, let’s find 8114.”   
He steps around the fallen officers. Rey goes the other way around the circular room, looking for the console that would control their landing bay. There aren’t many consoles; Ben’s willing to bet every small section of bays has their own control room for safety purposes. 

He finds 8114 relatively quickly thanks to the limited options. “Rey, I got it!” he calls, looking down at the panel before him. The buttons and switches aren’t labeled, but he looks towards the three surveillance screens that show the bay. He starts pressing random buttons, watching as Chewie turns suddenly at the sudden opening and closing of the bay door. 

“Not that one,” he mumbles to himself as he pulls a lever. No, that just opens the door out into the Coruscant sky. Sithspit. 

He reaches for another button and tries it, looking at the screen in hopes that this might be it. He grins as he watches the tractor beam flicker, and then retract back. He laughs as the TB at the bottom of the surveillance screen changes from ON to OFF and turns to try to find Rey. “I got it! I got it, Rey, we can-“

“Ben,” she calls. “Look at this.”

He turns to see Rey on the other side of the control room. He straightens and hurries over, standing behind her and looking over her shoulder as she points to one of the surveillance screens. 

“Have you ever seen a ship like this?” she asks, frowning. 

He follows her finger and sees the dark ship coming down into the bay. He squints. It’s not a silhouette he recognizes; he’s never seen one like this before, except maybe in some of the holopads during his research of his parents and the battles that came before him. 

“Looks like it’s Imperial,” he mutters, leaning towards the screen. “It’s not a First Order assault lander. This is an Imperial design, or something inspired by it. Can you zoom in?” 

Rey looks down towards the controls. Ben keeps his eyes on the screen as she presses a few buttons, trying to figure out how to zoom. She makes the ship slightly bigger, and Ben’s frown deepens as he looks at the ship. 

“I have no idea,” he admits. “I’ve never seen this before.” 

“But it’s not good,” she guesses, turning to look at him.

“When has anything we’ve come across been good?” he mumbles, touching her hip to prompt her to move. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before Chewie’s blasted to bits.” 

She follows as he turns and runs towards the lift. They’re sprinting back down the hallway before it even hits the bottom of the shaft, Ben leaping off a few centimeters before it actually stops. In a stroke of sheer dumb luck, they don’t run into any Stormtroopers for a hallway and a half. 

“Think the shuttle brought more Stormtroopers?” she demands as they run along. 

“I told you, kid – I have no idea,” he insists, turning a sharp left and looking back quickly to make sure she’d followed him. By the time he looks back around, it’s to two blasters aimed right at his head. He stops, stumbling back as he stares at the two helmets facing him. He glances quickly towards Rey.

“Wanna do it?” he asks, stepping back as she steps forward to slash at the two soldiers. They go down easily, and he leaps over them to continue running back towards the bay. 

The lack of Stormtroopers after has him worried; he frowns as they encounter none at the door to their docking bay. 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he mutters, glancing towards the scavenger at his side. 

The door to the docking bay slides open, and he steps inside, Rey right as his heels. He sees Chewie immediately, his uncle crouching behind some cargo crates as he shoots at the remaining troopers. 

“Chewie!” Ben screams. “Get on the ship, we’re leaving!” 

His uncle roars loudly in protest. 

“I don’t care, get on the kriffing ship!” Ben yells back. “I’ll handle them!”

“There are at least eight, you can’t take them on your own,” Rey insists. 

“Watch me,” he growls. “Go with Chewie.”

He pulls the second blaster from his holster and aims towards the Stormtrooper shooting from the upper surveillance balcony. His shot misses, but hers doesn’t; he watches as the small figure falls to the metal floor, and glances to his left to see that Rey standing beside him with her arm raised and blaster ready. 

“Seven,” she says, and he grins as he aims towards two more on opposite sides of the bay, arms spread as he aims and fires. He can hear the sound of Rey’s blaster beside him, and watches as a trooper across the way goes down. 

There are only three more and he’s inching closer to the ramp, Rey close behind when the docking bay door slides open with a hiss. 

“Oh, for Hutt’s sake,” Ben hisses, aiming towards the door and shooting towards whomever’s walking through it. It’s instinct now, and he’s too angry to really focus on the figure walking through the doorway.

The blaster bolt stops halfway through its path, buzzing and humming with energy as it hovers midair. 

Ben’s eyes widen in horror as he stares at the paralyzed blast.

“What the…?” he mutters, staring at the figure coming through the doorway.

Their gait is graceful, but he can hear every single heavy, clonking step on the concrete floor as they enter the bay. They step aside as soon as the door closes behind them, and Ben watches in shock as suddenly the blaster bolt continues on its path, hitting the metal door and leaving a scorched hole behind. Ben’s eyes flick between the figure and the damage to the metal, heart sinking as he stares at the dark metal mask of the … he’s not even sure what it is, to be honest.

“That’s not a Stormtrooper,” he hears Rey breathe beside him. 

“No, that’s not,” he mutters, staring at the figure dressed almost entirely in black and flanked by two more Stormtroopers who keep their blasters down. As they step closer, Ben can see the mask a bit more clearly. It’s a sleek thing, well-constructed with a slit for a viewer. That’s as much as he can see from as far away as he is, and he’s perfectly happy with that. Ben takes a quick step back as they get closer and almost falls back flat on his ass, legs unsteady as he watches the figure approach.

“Rey,” he says, voice low and tone leaving no room for argument as he watches the figure step forward again, boot heavy on the concrete. Ben stands his ground, now, hand tightening on the blaster in his palm. “I need you to get on the ship. Now.” 

He thanks the Maker that she doesn’t argue. Instead he hears her quick footsteps, first on the cement and then clanging sound of her boots against the metal of the ramp. 

He’s far enough away from the figure that he can’t distinguish much, can’t tell one black garment from the next. Rey was right; this is no Stormtrooper. No, this is something – someone – a hell of a lot more powerful, and it makes his head spin and his heart stop as he watches them walk forward. 

He raises his blaster and shoots again.

Ordinarily, it would be a killing shot. It's dead on, one of his better aiming jobs. But he already has the sinking feeling that it won't hit the Force user, not by a long shot. He watches as the bolt moves directly towards them-

And then stops maybe two steps from their head. They just walk around the stopped bolt, leaving it hovering mid-air. 

Ben scrambles back, fear seemingly solidifying in his stomach and feeling like lead as he turns and runs towards the ramp. He thunders up it, ramming his fist against the latch to close it as he sprints towards the cockpit. 

“We gotta go,” he pants as he slips into the pilot’s seat. Chewie’s already in the copilot’s, Rey strapped into the passenger seat behind Ben. 

“What is that?” she demands, clinging onto Ben’s seat as he flips switches and starts the takeoff process. 

“I don’t know,” he insists, voice cracking as he starts to lift the ship from the ground. He hopes to the Maker that they’ll be able to get out of here; he’s seen his uncle lift wrecked X-wings, seen his uncle lift boulders as kriffing practice exercises. It can’t be too much effort to stop a freighter, not when the … person, or whoever the hell it is, can stop a blaster bolt without any hesitancy what so ever. “I don’t know.”

He feels like shouting when the freighter does lift, and he aims for the exit door of the docking bay. He punches it, and hears Chewie’s roar of indignation and Rey’s pained gasp as he goes fast enough to send them slamming back against the seats. 

“Sorry, sorry!” he insists, taking towards the sky. His heart’s still in his throat, and doesn’t seem to want to go down as he barrels through the atmosphere. Stars start to appear around them as they leave, and though he wants to breathe a sigh of relief, he can still feel the hard fear in the pit of his stomach. He doubts it’ll leave for a while as he punches to lightspeed, setting course for D’Qar in the same movement. 

“I thought we were going to Dantooine,” Rey protests softly, sounding confused. 

“Change of plans,” he mutters, honestly surprised his voice is working. It’s shaky, at best, but it’s working. “I need to tell Mom that the First Order has a Force user in their ranks.” He takes a rattling sigh and runs his hand through his hair. “And that we need my uncle as soon as we can get him.” 

He closes his eyes as the ship sets course, head tipping back against the back of the pilot’s seat as he winces and tries to make sense of everything. “… a Dark side user,” he mumbles, hand finding its way into his hair again and pulling to the point of pain. “We’re fucked.”


	17. Unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, seeing your comments to the last chapter was so much fun! I can't wait to see who you think the Dark side user is :) If you have any particular theories, I'd LOVE to hear them! Send them to my askbox at http://stoptakingmyhandx.tumblr.com/ask  
> You may notice the rating's gone up. This is a precaution for the future. I will be exploring darker themes, and might include a bit of smut. As I know this will be happening, I'm just upping the rating now.  
> Thank you for all your wonderful support, and I hope you enjoy!

When he was little, he thought they were all fairytales. Legends, myths, folklore - the tales his father told him were too far-fetched and dramatic and otherworldly to have actually happened. 

He learned later, as his height shot up to past his mother’s knee and then her hip, that it was really just his father’s sheer dumb luck that had made everything work out the way that it had. That, and the fact that Han had a habit of embellishing and making himself look a bit more heroic than he actually was. 

Everything started to make sense around the time he befriended Poe. The princess became a general, and the pirate became a father. The farmer boy trained and trained, and became the great Jedi the galaxy whispered about. 

He was made from legends, made of the same blood and bone as the heroes within them.

They were the heroes. Of course, like all good stories, there had to be villains as well.

In his father’s stories, the men with the masks and dark clothes and an obscene amount of both political and Force power were always the ‘bad guys’; they were the villains, the dark balance to the heroes’ light. 

They’re dealing with a ‘bad guy’ now, he realizes, on top of the ones that already exist. A bigger, badder, darker ‘bad guy’ than those he’d assumed were already downright terrifying and horrific.

Ben closes his eyes, leaning against the console as he clenches his hand in his hair and tries to calm the fear that’s starting to well up and bubble like boiling water in his chest. 

He’d seen the holopads. He’d seen the grainy blue holos of masked men, dark and terrible and almost always cruel. His father’s stories were gruesome, over-embellished perhaps but dealing the same sort of blow. 

He’d heard of how his father’s blaster was ripped from his hand, the bolt thrown aside. 

To see something along those lines in real life is a hell of a lot more horrifying than any of Han's dramatic descriptions.

The sound of the comlink breaks the silence, and he looks towards Rey as she scrambles for the device in her pocket. She pulls it out, glancing towards him, and Ben holds his hand out for it. She slips it into his palm without protest and he lets the transmission through, leaning against the console again as he looks out towards the stars passing around them, streaks of light that make his eyes hurt if he stares too long.

“You’d better tell me something good, Dameron,” he growls, one hand clenched around the comlink and the other gripping the arm of his seat tight enough for the leather to creak. 

“… in that case, you want me to tell you the truth, or do you want me to lie to you?” 

Ben wants to groan, cry, and bang his head against the nearest hard surface at the same time. He just sighs instead, eyes down towards the banged and beaten edge of the console. “Just give it to me.” 

“The droid you stole wasn’t exactly in the best condition.” 

“Knew that already, what about the map?” 

“We have about a third of it now. We still don’t have enough to find your uncle. I’m sorry, Ben.” 

He sighs again, closing his eyes and letting his head fall against a bare portion of the controls. “… we need to find him, Poe,” he mutters. “We gotta find him, as soon as possible. Is Mom there?”

“I know, Ben, I - what happened?” 

“The First Order has a Dark Side user in its ranks. We’re on our way back to the Resistance now. We need to tell Mom, we need to prepare, we need to send out squadrons to look for Uncle Luke. They stopped a fucking blaster bolt, Poe. A blaster bolt! We can’t wait any longer, Poe, we can’t…”

He clenches his eyes shut, waiting for Poe’s outburst, the fear of his friend, the panic that should come with an announcement like that. 

Nothing comes. He opens his eyes, glancing at the comlink to make sure that the connection wasn’t severed. It wasn’t. He’s just getting silence. 

“… you knew,” he accuses.

More silence follows. Then there’s a sigh. “Yeah,” the pilot admits. “Yeah, I knew. He … he’s the one who captured me, took me to the Finalizer. He’s the one who … the one who tortured me.”

“What do you know about him?” Ben demands, hand clenching on the comlink.

“I can’t say, Ben.” 

“What the kriffing hell do you mean you can’t say?” the smuggler hisses. “What the krif, Poe?” 

“I’m … I’m under strict orders from the General not to tell you anything, Ben. I think I’ve already said too much, she’s going to be pissed at me.” 

“Mom?” Ben orders. “Mom knows?” 

“Ben, I-“ Poe starts, pleading, but the comlink’s already clattering to the floor. It’s by sheer dumb luck that it doesn’t crunch beneath his foot as he pushes himself up from the captain’s chair, feeling tight all over as he storms past Rey and Chewie. “Ben-“ Rey tries, but he pays her no mind as he walks by, boots heavy on the floor of the ship. He can hear her voice a second later, the sound of the comlink against the floor of the ship as she picks it up. “Poe, are you still there?”

Ben storms through the corridor, a sick sense of satisfaction coming from how his boots sound on the floor of the Falcon. He’s itching, hands clenching and unclenching, fingers spreading as he tries to find a way to channel whatever he’s feeling out through his fingertips. 

_If I had the Force, I could-_

He stops that thought right there, because it’s not an option, he knows damn well it’s not. 

He could hit something metal, one of the panels maybe, perhaps kick at the table in the lounge, but that would result in broken fingers and perhaps a broken food. So he turns and hits the wall instead, knuckles connecting with one of the pale panels that’s not quite hard to break anything but hard enough to send pain shooting up the bones of his hand. Once isn’t quite enough, so he punches it again, and again, trying to get rid of the roaring in his ears and the anger bubbling in his blood. 

They know. They both know. Hell, he’s fairly certain if his mother knows, then his father knows as well. And who’s to say that Finn doesn’t know? They know there’s a Dark Side user, and didn’t tell him. 

Because they know he can’t do shit to fight back, as desperately as he wants to. 

_Because he’s not-_

He punches the wall again, letting out some sort of sound as he does so. It’s half wail, half scream, entirely inhuman as he pulls his fist back to do it again. He can see the blood from the broken skin of his knuckles on the panel he’s chosen to destroy, but pays the red marks no mind as he goes to punch again. 

A small hand catches his bloody knuckles just as he swings, and he stops immediately, staring down at the girl who’s stepped between him and the wall. He’s panting, having lost count of how many times he’s thrown his fist, how many times his knuckles have connected with the panel. The skin of her palm’s hot against his broken skin, and he sags almost immediately as she guides his fingers, unfurling them so that his hand’s resting palm up in hers. 

“Hitting the ship means more repairs later,” she says firmly, turning his hand over so that she can look at the damage he’d caused. Over his shoulder, he can see that the panel’s dented and streaked in his blood. 

“Let go, you’ll get blood on your hands,” he mutters, trying to pull his hand back. 

She doesn’t let go, and ends up pulling his hand closer to her. He stumbles forward as she examines his broken knuckles, thumb running across the rough skin. “I don’t care,” she insists. “Anything broken?” 

“Just the skin,” he sighs. “It’s fine, Rey, I’m fine.” 

“You just punched the kriffing hell out of that wall,” she says firmly, eyes still on his knuckles. “You’re not fine.” 

“All right, so I’m not fine, but I will be in a few minutes, can you just let go?” he snaps, yanking his hand from hers. “How would you feel if you found out that your best friend and mother were keeping that from you, huh? There’s a Dark side user, and they didn’t tell me, because they think I can’t do _shit_!”

“I don’t have either, so _I wouldn’t know_!” she snarls right back, accent all the harsher as her anger with him rises. 

His own anger dissipates almost immediately and he stops, cradling his hand as he gapes at her. She’s still glaring at him, all small fury and fuck, she really does not look happy with him. His heart sinks and he opens his mouth, already trying to think about how he’s going to fumble through his apology.

“Rey, I-“ he starts when there’s a jolt so violent they both go crashing to the floor. Alarms start to blare as Ben throws both hands out, trying to catch himself and protect her at the same time. He ends up landing on top of her, and he can hear the wind as it flies out of her lungs as they’re pressed chest to chest. He pulls back almost immediately, getting his weight off of her as he stares down at her. She stares right back, wide-eyed and just as scared as he as he watches the red lights cast her entire face into stark shadow. 

“Sorry,” he breathes immediately as the ship stabilizes slightly. Chewie roars loudly from the cockpit – something about the hyperdrive, and why isn’t Ben back here to pilot?! “Coming!” he yells, pushing himself up off of the ground and hissing as he uses his hurt hand. Rey comes up with him, scrambling to her feet as Ben rushes into the cockpit and assumes the captain’s chair, trying his damndest to navigate through the stars and smaller astroids around them that wouldn’t have been a problem at lightspeed. “What happened to the hyperdrive?!” 

Chewie roars a negative as Rey climbs into the seat behind Ben, hands gripping the top of his seat as she peers around to watch. “Left!” 

“Got it,” Ben breathes, jolting the controls and jerking the ship to the right to avoid the small asteroid coming at them. Alarms are still blaring and he moves his gaze from the field to Chewie. “When’s the last time we updated it?”

Chewie shrugs his head, reaching up to look at the controls. His next roar sends Ben’s heard plummeting through his chest. 

“Before I was – damn Dad,” he growls. “We’re not getting to D’Qar like this, it’ll take forever.”

Chewie shrugs helplessly. 

Ben groans as he navigates through the field as best as he can. “We gotta land, Chew. We’re not going to make it to D’Qar, not now.” 

Out of sheer desperation, he turns down towards the first planet he sees; a small thing of dark grey and dark blue. He veers downwards, heading for it. “I hope to hell that we don’t need to get anything,” he mutters, ducking into the atmosphere and immediately encountering dark, thick clouds and heavy rain. It splatters against the panes of the cockpit, and he curses under his breath as Rey clings to the seat. Thunder crashes and sends the ship shaking from the force, but he manages to keep it somewhat stable as he navigates down through the grey clouds.

“What is that?” she demands. 

“Water, sweetheart, and a lot of it,” he mutters, squinting and turning the lights on as he tries to guide them through the thunderstorms that are surrounding them. “I hope I can fix the hyperdrive without having to go out – no way I’ll be able to see through this. Chew, you see land anywhere?” 

Chewie points in some vague direction to the left. 

“ _That’s not helpful!_ ” 

The Wookie roars in indignation, giving his nephew a look. Ben huffs and starts in that direction, skimming across the top of some sort of body of water. All he can see is waves, and rain, and fog. “Sithspit,” he mutters. “This was a bad idea.” 

“There!” Rey insists, pointing to a darker point in the distance. “Cave?” 

“Worth a shot,” Ben admits, moving towards it. 

She’s right. It’s the mouth of a cave, jutting up from the ocean that they’ve managed to find themselves flying across. Ben directs the Falcon into it, thanking the Maker that it’s just big enough for the ship to fit. The loud sound of rain hitting the ship disappears as he guides it in, the lights illuminating the short stalagmites against the back wall of the cave. 

“Any idea where we are?” Ben asks, looking towards his uncle who just gives a shrug, rolling his furry shoulders and tilting his head. “Yeah, me either. I’m going to go shut down everything, all right?” 

The alarm’s still blaring, and he can see the red light flash across Rey’s face as he races to the power bank. He crouches beside it, flicking off switches left and right as everything powers down around them. Chewie’s beside him a moment later, helping him and roaring ideas of what could’ve gone wrong as they go. 

“Maybe,” Ben mutters. “I don’t think it’s the power couplings, didn’t we check that back on D’Qar?” 

The Wookie nods and shrugs. It was just an idea.

“Pressure valve?” Rey questions. 

“Maybe,” Ben mutters. “We’ll just have to try everything, won’t we? Chewie, you go up and check the power couplings, I’m going to try and –“  
Thunder loud enough to rock the ship crashes around them, and he feels fingers digging into his arm. He glances down to see that Rey’s clutched onto his forearm, and he catches her eyes darting around, afraid. 

Of course. She’s from Jakku; she’s never experienced thunder, or rain, or anything like this. 

“It’s just thunder, sweetheart,” he mutters. “It’s not gonna hurt you, all right? It’s just a sound.” 

Her eyes dart to his, and he can see them soften almost immediately. Her hand moves down and accidentally brushes against his knuckles, and he hisses, reminded of his bruises and busted skin. 

“I’m going to put some bacta on this, all right?” he says, looking towards his uncle and holding up his injured hand. “Rey, can you go help him? You know where the toolbox is.” 

She nods simply, glancing back towards him as Chewie starts to walk towards the hold, roaring for her to get the toolbox that’s in the far left cabinet.  
Ben makes his way towards the compartment that has the medkit, and is reaching for it when he feels small arms around his waist. He stops, arms raised halfway and metal box in his hands as he feels the press of her cheek against his back. 

“I’m sure they didn’t tell you for a reason.” 

“I know exactly what that reason is,” he admits, looking down at the medkit. “… I can’t fight back. You saw. Blasters aren’t worth anything against a Force user.” 

Her arms tighten around his waist, and he looks down towards where her hands are. He grips the box with one hand and reaches down to touch hers with the other, his covering hers easily. 

“I’m fine,” he mutters. “Go help Chewie.” He squeezes her hands and then lets go, waiting until she’s pulled back and he hears her footsteps on the floor to turn around and take the medkit back to the dejarik table.

-

His knuckles still sting slightly, but it’s fading with every moment as he crouches below the grate and examines the wires of one of the internal converters. He finds absolutely nothing wrong with them and pops up, pushing the welders goggles onto his forehead and frowning at Rey who’s kneeling nearby with the toolbox beside her. “Nope, not this one.” 

She frowns back at him, and not for the first time in the past two hours, he thinks she looks quite cute with Chewie’s welders goggles pushed up onto her own forehead. The coated leather edge around the eyepieces have left black streaks on her forehead around her eyes, and he knows that he has the same. “Motivator?” she asks. 

“If that was busted, we would’ve all passed out by now from the gas,” he mutters, reaching a hand up to pull his goggles up and off. He then runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. We checked the motivator, almost all of the converters, Chewie’s checking the power couplings…” 

“Acceleration compensators?” Rey asks. 

Ben stills, eyes widening as he turns so quickly his neck cracks and points at her. “Compensators!” he insists, pushing himself up out of the grate and pulling it back over top quickly. “You’re a genius. Chewie! Compensators!” Ben calls, running to where his uncle’s lying near a trapdoor in the ceiling.  
Chewie roars, poking his head down and frowning at his nephew. 

“I know, I know, it’s not really related to the hyperdrive, but it’s worth a check, right?” Ben demands. “C’mon, just check it. Rey and I are going to see about the power core – you know Dad didn’t take the best care of it.” 

The Wookie shrugs and nods his head, admitting that the older Solo didn’t exactly buy the right parts for the Falcon out of wanting to save a few credits. 

“C’mon,” Ben says, jerking his head down the corridor to where the control panel for the power core’s located. He knows his father jury-rigged most of it – illegally, of course – to be able to outrun anything. He looks at some of the wires and switches and plugs, frowning as he sees that a few have potentially blown. “I’m going to need the blowtorch and the –“ 

A slender hand enters his vision, and he stops, glancing down to see that Rey’s already two steps ahead of him, having gone back to grab the goggles. She grins in the dim light of the powered-down ship as she offers them to him, the headstrap dangling from her index finger. “These?” 

He stares down at her, heart skipping a few too many beats to be entirely healthy as he takes in her smile, the goggles, how the dim emergency lights leave a lot to be desired in terms of flattering lighting but she still looks absolutely beautiful. 

“… yeah,” he admits, the sound more of a croak than a word. He licks his lips, clears his throat and takes them from her. To keep himself from looking too much like a bumbling idiot, he shoves them on his head, adjusting them. “Yeah, thanks.” 

“Ben.” 

“Hm?” 

“They’re upside down.” 

So much for keeping from looking like a bumbling idiot. “I knew that.”

-

While the rain’s no longer hitting the ship, he can still hear it as the sound echoes along the walls of the cave. It doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, but he hadn’t really expected it to. A storm like this isn’t exactly quick, in his experience. He can hear the claps of thunder, loud and so near that sometimes it feels as though the cave itself is shaking with the force of it. 

Rey jumps occasionally from the sudden noise, but she seems to learn quickly that it rumbles before it crashes, and he feels her bracing herself as the rumbles come and rattle the Falcon in its small hideaway. 

“You ever seen rain before?” he asks, pushing his goggles up on his head and glancing towards her. She stops welding a moment later, pushing her own up onto her forehead and frowning at him. 

“No,” she says simply, voice soft as she looks towards the wires she’s just repaired. She grabs the bonding tape from the toolbox and wraps it around the wires before pulling the goggles down and using the torch to melt the tape around the wire, creating a new, sturdier coating. “Why?”

“Wanna see it?” 

“We need to finish this,” she insists. "And get back to D'Qar."

“They know about the Dark side user,” he protests. “That was the reason we were going to D’Qar. Now, we’ve got nowhere to go. They don’t need us.”  
Sure, it’s a bit bitter, but he can’t bring himself to care as he tugs the goggles from his head and tosses them into the toolbox. “Chewie!” he calls. “I’m checking the sensors outside! Rey’s coming with me!” 

It’s a lie, and she knows it as she sets the torch down and pulls her own goggles off. Ben reaches down and grabs her hand in his, tugging her along towards the ramp. It lowers with their approach, and almost immediately the sound of rain becomes louder. Ben grins as Rey squeezes his hand, the sound unfamiliar and probably a bit frightening. 

“It’s just water, kid, nothing to worry about,” he says, tugging her down the ramp. 

She goes willingly, and he steps down onto the cave floor. It’s surprisingly dry, given the environment around them. Sure, he can see some puddles in the dim shine of the emergency lamps, but for the most part it’s dry. As the light reflects off of the sheet of water coming down by the mouth of the cave, he can see that the drops are slanted sideways, away from the entrance. He can see the waves below, crashing against the rock formation they’d chosen as their hideout for the time being. 

“Is it always like this?” she asks, walking beside him and wrapping her arms around herself. He does have to admit, it’s colder out here. They’d taken their jackets off to work on the Falcon, and he’s in his long sleeve shirt while she’s in the Resistance issue tank top.

“Not always,” he admits, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the water fall around them. “This is a storm. Thunder storm. Those claps? Thunder. The bright flashes? Lightning.” 

Light streaks across the sky and illuminates the cave, and he can see her face fully for the first time in hours. He takes what he can get, trying to memorizing the freckles across her nose before it flashes out again.

“What other kinds are there?” she asks, voice impossibly soft and a bit wistful as she stares out at the water. 

“… well, there’s the quick kind. It only lasts for about five minutes, and it’s just a downpour. Soaks everything in sight, but leaves everything smelling fresh and clean for ages afterwards. Like D’Qar,” he says, realizing she probably has no idea what ‘fresh and clean’ smells like. “And then there’s the long, slow kind. A few drops every couple seconds, real relaxing. There’s the misting kind, doesn’t make a sound but you can feel it on your skin and taste it in the air.” He shrugs. “I like storms, though, like this.” 

“Why?”

“Storms came with stories,” he explains, glancing down towards her. Her gaze has shifted to him. He steps closer to her, and she follows his lead, moving so that her shoulder’s against his bicep. He turns his attention back towards the rain as he feels the warmth of her skin against his through his shirt. “I’d get scared during storms, and if Dad was there, he’d tell me about his adventures. Mom would do it if he was off doing something or other. I liked his better.” 

“Why?” she asks again. 

“He liked to embellish,” Ben admits, smiling at the memories. “A lot. He rescued Mom a lot more than once, when in reality she could handle herself pretty damn well.” 

Lightning flashes again, and he looks down towards her to see that she’s smiling as she looks out towards the downpour. “… you’re like her,” he says. 

Her eyes snap to his. “Really?” she asks, smile splitting into a bright grin. “What makes you say that?” 

“Well,” he says with a shrug. “Force sensitive, for one. You shoot blasters better than most people I know, wear your hair in weird multiple bun kinda styles-“

“Weird?” she demands, but the grin doesn’t fade. 

He holds his hands up. “Just an opinion.” He lowers his hands and slips them into his pockets, looking back towards the rain. “You can fix things, take charge without anyone questioning it, can handle yourself pretty damn well, and …” he trails off, eyes trying to follow the direction of the rain and failing miserably. 

“And?” she prompts, leaning against him. 

“… you’re two of the bravest, strongest and ... most hopeful people I’ve ever met,” he admits, turning his eyes from the rain back down to her. 

She’s quiet, grin having faded into her lips being parted in surprise as she stares up at him, taken aback. 

Unsure of whether her kiss back at Burr’s was supposed to be a genuine confession or just an adrenaline-fueled move, he bends and just slightly brushes his lips against the side of her mouth, not even bothering to wait to see if she’d move to full on kiss him. He moves up to her cheek almost immediately after, pressing a firmer kiss against the soft skin there. He lets himself linger for a moment before he pulls back, offering her a grin and his hand as her jerks his head back towards the Falcon. 

“C’mon, kid , before Chewie realizes that we’re not really doing anything useful,” he says. 

He turns and she follows, after a moment during which he can only hear the rain instead of the rain and her footsteps behind him. 

-

The comlink’s blinking in his hand.

He doesn’t let the message go through. 

He just holds it, his other hand to his mouth, lips brushing across his busted knuckles as he looks down at the light and deciding whether or not to let the transmission through. 

It was a combination of three power couplings; two negative, one positive. They hadn’t been replaced since before he was born – figures, he guesses, given his father’s reputation of jury-rigging and figuring something out for cheap that’s just good enough to work for the time being. Rey and Chewie are working on it, though it will take at least a day and a half to replace and for it to adjust. 

He’s sitting sideways in the captain’s chair, currently, holding the comlink and staring at the blinking light. 

“You answer it?” 

He glances towards Rey as she steps inside the cockpit. The neck of her tank top and the fabric underneath her arms have turned dark with sweat, and he can see it shining in the hollow of her throat and underneath her eyes as the goggles are pushed up onto her forehead. He can understand it; small space, big furry Wookie, little air circulation. “Not yet.” 

“You should,” she insists. “Water?” 

“Galley,” he explains. “Glasses far left compartment. Also filled bottles bottom third from left. Want something stronger?” 

She shakes her head as she leaves, in search of the water he’d told her of. He looks back down at the com, biting his lip before pressing the button to receive his best friend. 

“… what is it, Poe?” 

“You said you were coming to D’Qar, where the kriffing hell are you, Ben? We’ve been searching the skies for hours!” 

Sithspit. He forgot that he’d told them he was coming. Ben sighs, running a hand down his oily and sweat-streaked face as he does so. “We … had a little problem?” 

“Where are you, Ben?!” 

“No kriffing clue,” Ben admits. “Some planet with a lot of rain and a lot of fog and a lot of ocean and a lot of water. Our hyperdrive conked out, no thanks to Dad. We’ll be out in the next day or so. We’re headed to Dantooine, hopefully if the First Order sees our ship we can lead them away from you.” 

There’s silence, and then a sigh on the other end. “Ben, about-“ 

“Don’t,” the smuggler says suddenly before he can really think about it. “I know why Mom ordered you not to tell me, all right? Just … just don’t. It’s fine, really.” 

“It’s not,” Poe insists. “It’s not fine, I know-“ 

“Poe.” 

He’d meant for the man’s name to come out sharper. Instead, it come off as tired, and he guesses that’s exactly what he is after everything. He’s tired. It’s already turned into a hell of a lot more than he’d been prepared for, and he’s ready to sink into his bunk and just sleep everything away for a few hours. Dark side user and missing uncle be damned. 

“Tell Mom we’re fine. Tell Dad too, if the thought to worry ever crossed his mind,” he mutters. “… let me know if anyone has any thoughts on where to look for more information on Uncle Luke, all right? We’re not going to grab anymore droids, I can tell you that.” 

Poe’s laugh is stilted and awkward, but at least the pilot tries. “I’ll pass the message on. Be safe, all right?” 

“Same to you, buddy.” 

The connection cuts out, and he turns as he hears heavy footsteps approaching. Chewie enters the cockpit a moment later, roaring about being tired and dirty. 

“Yeah, yeah, shower and go to bed. I’m going to make something to eat for us, you do whatever,” Ben mutters, waving his hand at his uncle. Not a second later his hair’s being mussed by a large paw, and Chewie roars in soft laughter at Ben’s grimace. He smoothes it back down as best as he can as Chewie walks out of the cockpit, and smaller footsteps come in. 

“Eat?” Rey asks, and Ben realizes she must’ve been listening and caught onto that key word. 

He grins at the young woman’s obsession with new, good food (though he doesn’t really want to think about where said obsession with food came from, given her life on Jakku), and nods. “Yeah, eat,” he says, putting the comlink in his pocket and pushing himself up from the chair. “C’mon, kid, let’s go get you something to eat. It’s no Takodana, and it’s no Resistance food, but-“ 

“You say that like I’m used to eating well,” she says wryly as they walk through the corridors to the galley that his father installed for his mother as a wedding gift long ago. 

“Never had a portion pack, so I wouldn’t know,” he admits. 

“You’re lucky.” 

“I think we still have the crates of them, though, if you’re feeling a bit homesick and want to-“ 

“No.” 

It’s said so quickly and forcefully that he laughs, shaking his head as he leads her into the galley. 

“All right, kid, real food it is.”


	18. Unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far, most of the votes tend to be leaning towards an evil twin or the dark version of Ben. I don't know, I'm not saying anything aside from 'we shall see'. We'll see where the theories are after this chapter, hm?  
> Hope you enjoy (both the breadcrumbs and the kisses ;) )

“General.” 

General Hux turns at the sound of his title, the word smooth even through the awful voice filtration device in the mask. He watches the man approach, nodding as the Force user comes to stand by his side on the bridge. He returns his gaze towards the lieutenants and commanders around him, all working diligently under his eyes. “If you’re going to ask me about that ship, I have no news of its whereabouts, or Solo’s.” 

“You’re not entirely focused on the priority, then.” 

“The priority was to get the map.” 

“The droid is in the hands of the Resistance; the map is in their possession, as well. Unless you insist upon attacking the Resistance base – which, by the way, we have no knowledge of regarding its location – then Solo and his crew are our best chance of recovering the map that you lost.” 

Hux turns to glare at the Force user beside him. “You’re the one who let them go on Coruscant.”

“And you’re the one whose troops failed to capture them on Coruscant.” It’s said matter-of-factly, and without amusement or pleasure in the general’s wrongdoing. “We need Solo.” 

“General?” 

The redheaded man and the Force user turn, both looking towards the small blonde lieutenant making his way towards the two. “It’s about the Millennium Falcon, sir, we-“ 

“Lost track of it,” the Force user interjects. “Along the Outer Rim, on the way back to the base.”

Hux’s gaze shifts to the commander beside him, and he glares at the awful chrome and black mask the other man wears. “I wish you wouldn’t enter the heads of those under my command," he snaps. 

“And I wish those under your command were competent.” 

The Force user’s leather-covered hand lashes out, quick as a blaster shot. At the sound of choking, Hux’s gaze snaps back his lieutenant as the young man struggles for breath, scrabbling at his neck hard enough to leave dark red scratches along his pale skin. “Enough, Cor,” Hux bites after allowing the other man perhaps two heartbeats of torturing the lieutenant. “Vaklin, you’re dismissed.”

The man’s released immediately and he crumples to the floor, breathing labored and wheezing as Cor turns towards Hux.

“Get me Solo.” 

-

The rain goes on into the night. Rey never thought there could be so much water. The sound of it against the rocks and the waves below echoes along the walls, and she can hear it even in the small room she’d been given. 

She turns over, pulling the blankets closer around her shoulders in an attempt to mimic the snugness of the hammock back in the AT-AT. It’s not quite enough, but it calms her slightly as the rain continues outside. 

She knows Ben’s on the other side of the head, in the other bunkroom, but it feels strange not to hear his soft snoring after sharing beds and rooms for days. 

“You’ll finally get your own room,” he’d told her hours ago, tossing her that lopsided smile that looks so much like Han’s without the cockiness. “Like your AT-AT, huh?” 

She knows that he couldn’t possibly imagine how lonely the AT-AT was. 

As she closes her eyes, she feels the sudden and painfully familiar yank backwards, deep in her gut, but it’s already too late. By the time her eyes snap open again, she’s already left the bunk and is standing right behind Ben in the cockpit. Chewie’s beside him, the Wookie’s roar louder and angrier than she’s ever heard it. 

_“NO!”_

Ben’s younger; he doesn’t have the scar on his collarbone, his hair’s shorter, and his features are softer, though they’re scrunched in pain as he slams his fists on the console. 

“NO! They can’t be – _they wouldn’t!_ ” he screams again, and Rey scrambles back at the anguish in the vision. His face is red from screaming and sobbing, and he lets out a cry that’s eerily similar to the one she’d heard come from her own young mouth in her vision back at the castle. 

She stumbles back, and her heel catches on the jut of the Falcon’s doorway. She reels as lightning flashes, leaving her vision spotted at the sheer brightness of it. There’s the sound of a lightsaber flashing and she whirls. Rey can’t help the scream that comes from her mouth as she comes face to face with a dark figure; broad shouldered, as tall as Ben, and wearing the same black and chrome mask that she’d caught a glimpse of earlier that day in the landing bay. The hum of the lightsaber gets louder as the Force user raises it, and she staggers back, nearly tripping again.

_“Rey!”_

“We’re not done, Solo!”

Ben sounds completely and utterly panicked, and the other voice is undoubtedly male. Rey whirs towards the figure she knows to be the smuggler, and her eyes widen as lightning flashes again and next thing she knows he’s face down in the mud. _“Ben!”_

By the time she’s close enough to see the lightsaber hilt in his right hand, she’s tripping into a muddy puddle and falling from the sudden drop. When she pushes herself up, her hands aren’t coated in mud; they’re pushed into a snowbank, fingers freezing and turning pale. She hears the sound of a lightsaber swinging somewhere behind her, but can’t get her body to cooperate. There’s the sound of the saber hitting skin, and then a scream that sounds exactly like the anguished one Ben had let out in the cockpit. 

“Ben-“ she breathes, trying to turn over but her arms won’t move, won’t budge, won't push her up out of the snow.

She doesn’t have much time at all before there’s a flash of red and she’s panting, sitting up and nearly hitting her head on the bottom of the bunk above her. She's back in the Falcon.

Rey stares out into the dark of the room, eyes wide and heart feeling like it’s going to thump right out of her chest. She fumbles for the lightsaber under her pillow, grabbing it and rushing out of the room and right into Ben’s. She nearly stumbles, part in panic and part because the hallway's dark and illuminated only by the emergency lights thanks to the power shutdown. 

The door to his room slides open and she stops, still panting and now staring at the man who’s dead to the world and snoring softly. Suddenly exhausted, she leans against the doorway as her gaze travels over his bare chest, his skin covered in dark moles and old blaster marks from stories he’s yet to tell her. She tries to even her breathing as much as possible, watching his chest rise and fall and trying to time her breaths to his deep, even ones. 

She takes in the strange position he’s managed to work himself into; one arm draped across his stomach, the other above his head while his long legs are tangled in the sheets, almost off of the bunk entirely. He snores again, dark hair plastered to his forehead as she watches him sleep for a moment more. Her eyes dart to his chest again, just watching it rise and fall before she steps back. There's something blooming in her chest, warm and almost overwhelming in combination with the cold fear she'd felt only moments earlier. She watches him for a moment more, squashing the urge to get closer, to touch him.

_He's fine. He's all right. He's fine._

Rey walks backwards through the door and watches as it slides closed again, hiding the smuggler from her view. Her eyes widen further as it goes back into its frame with a slightly-too-loud ‘clang’. She winces in the silence that follows, staying for a moment to make sure he hadn’t woken up before making her way back to the other room. She sits on the floor across from the set of bunks, her back to the wall. It takes a bit of effort to reach up and grab the lightsaber from where it had been beside her pillow, but she manages it and cradles it in her hands as she braces her feet against the floor, knees tucked to her chest as she looks at the weapon.

Ben’s ‘no’ is still echoing in her mind, and she bends, pressing her forehead to her knees as she breathes through her nose and tries to calm herself. 

The lightsaber’s warm, despite her not having held it in hours, and the metal in her hand is strangely comforting as she runs her thumb over one of the smoother spots on the hilt.

“Kid?” 

Rey startles slightly, looking towards the figure in the doorway. Her room’s dark, so he’s mostly silhouetted against the emergency lights in the hall, but she can tell that his hair’s mussed from sleep and he hadn’t bothered to tug a shirt on before checking on her. 

“You all right, sweetheart?” he asks, voice low and gruff, and the sound of it makes her cheeks feel warm as she watches him yawn and run a hand through his hair. 

“I … “ she starts, but she’s not sure how to explain to him what just happened, what she’d seen. Her voice catches in her throat, and then she’s shaking her head. Realizing she still hadn’t answered his simple question, she looks up towards him and says, “No.” 

\- 

He has a bad feeling about this. He feels it in his gut, deep and nagging, and incredibly worrying as it yanks him from sleep so suddenly he nearly chokes. By the time he’s sitting up and thinking somewhat clearly, he’s blinking in the darkness and hearing the door clang shut in its frame. He frowns, waiting for a moment before he hears footsteps that are way too light to be Chewie’s go past his door and back towards the room he’d given Rey. 

He runs his hand down his face, standing and stumbling slightly towards the door. He grimaces as it slides aside, the hallway bright even with only the emergency lights functioning. A quick peek out the door shows that she must’ve returned to her own room, and the sound of her door sliding shut confirms it. He frowns, leaning against the frame of his room for a moment before pushing off and walking towards the bunk he’d given her. 

The door slides open before he can knock, and in the dim light of the hallway he can see that she’s sitting on the floor instead of lying on the bed. He frowns as he takes in the fact that her knees are up to her heaving chest, her hand holding his uncle's lightsaber in a vice-like grip as she bows her head. 

“Kid?”

She jerks, startling at the sudden sound of his voice, even as low as it is. He frowns, blinking in the darkness of her room. She turns her head towards him, and there it is. 

He knows that face, even as hard to see as it is in the shitty emergency lights. It’s the same face she’d had on Takodana, the same stunned and terrified gaze. 

The tug in his gut doesn’t ease, exactly, but at least now he knows the reasoning behind it. It's something to do with the damn Force, he's absolutely sure. 

“You all right, sweetheart?” he tries, yawning even though he’s trying desperately not to. He runs his hand through his hair, stepping forward as she looks down towards her lap and starts to say, “I…” before she trails off. 

Then there’s a subtle shake of her head, and she’s looking towards him and saying, “No,” and he feels like his heart’s just plummeted down through the floor of the Falcon to the bottom of the cave. 

Such a simple word. One syllable, two letters, and yet it has him rushing over, nearly stumbling over her boots on the floor in his effort to get to her. By the time he reaches her, the lightsaber’s already fallen to the floor of the bunkroom, metal clanging against metal. She moves up to her knees as he sinks to his, pulling her against him. Her hands come up around his back, and he can feel her blunt nails as they dig into his bare shoulders. He pays the pain no mind, instead pulling her to him even tighter. 

“What’d you see, kid?” he asks, though it’s half mumbled into her shoulder as she presses her face to his chest. “What happened?” 

She doesn’t answer him. Instead she lifts her face and turns blindly towards him, seeking out his lips with hers. 

It’s just as sloppy and frenzied as the kiss back at Burr’s, and he can feel her clawing at his back with her left hand as the right slips into his hair, nails scraping along his scalp as she tries to pull him closer. It’s like she’s trying to pull him into her, he realizes, and he tries to pull back from her. 

She follows him, and he can taste the salty tears as she sobs against his mouth. 

Whatever she’d seen, it must’ve scared the kriffing hell out of her.

“Hey,” he breathes against her lips, pulling back to skirt his mouth along her cheek. “Hey, it’s all right, we’re safe, all right?” 

“You screamed.” 

It’s breathed in his ear, almost a sob. “You screamed, in the cockpit, and Chewie-“ 

“What did you see?” he demands, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes. “Rey, tell me what you saw.” 

“You were screaming,” she says quickly. “In the cockpit, and Chewie was roaring, and you kept on saying ‘they can’t, they wouldn’t,’ and then you screamed again…” 

She trails off, staring at him as he frowns. 

“… the massacre,” he decides, because he can count on one hand the amount of times he’s been screaming in the cockpit and the other two probably wouldn’t have solicited this sort of reaction from her, nor was Chewie there (thank the Maker). “You saw me getting the news of the massacre. What else?”

“I saw him,” she insists, nails continuing to dig into his scalp and shoulder. “I saw the Force user, and you were hurt, and you were holding a lightsaber, and-“ 

“Wait, _what?_ ”

It sounds like a demand, and he stops, softening his tone. “You saw me holding a lightsaber?” he asks, slowly, while trying to keep his heart from exploding out of his chest in childish hope. He tries to squash it, stamp it back down to where it belongs. This is about Rey, he thinks. Rey now, just Rey.

“I don’t know whose it was,” she explains quickly. “It wasn’t – it wasn’t activated.” 

“What else?” he asks, gripping her bare shoulders and rubbing his thumbs along her skin in an attempt to comfort her. “It’s okay, sweetheart, just tell me what you remember.”

“… you screamed again,” she says quickly. “In the snow, there was a red lightsaber, and-“

She sounds almost hysterical, the accent she has getting stronger as she panics. He reaches both hands up to cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking the errant tears from her skin. 

“Hey,” he tries. “Hey, calm down, all right? You had a Force vision. Uncle had them all the time, all right?” 

He’s not entirely sure it’s the most calming thing to say, but he thanks the Maker that he knows what happened, at least. This he could deal with. 

Maybe.

“Uncle said someone wise told him the future’s always in motion. What you saw might not happen, all right? I don’t know what you saw about the massacre, but as far as the other stuff, I’m willing to bet that hasn’t happened yet and I’m going to try my damn best to make sure it doesn’t. You’re not gonna get hurt, I’m not gonna get hurt, that’s that, all right?” 

It comes out in a jumble, but she seems to understand most of it. She nods, the slightest movement of her head, chest still heaving from sobbing and trying to spill the information all at once. 

"We're gonna be fine," he assures her, trying to make his voice as soothing as possible. "Besides, now we've got a pretty girl with a lightsaber to go with the Wookie with a bowcaster. Nothing's gonna happen to me between you two, all right?" 

The sound she makes isn't quite a laugh, but it's close enough that he's certain she's a bit reassured, and he gives her a soft smile as she leans forward, leaning into him.

Taking a chance he’s not sure he wants to know the odds of, he bends and _almost_ presses his lips against hers. Their mouths are a hair’s width apart and he waits, just breathing slowly and feeling her own breath against his lips as she hesitates before leaning forward and closing the almost non-existent gap. 

This time it’s softer, slower, and a lot more hesitant. He tilts his head, slants his lips against hers and reaches around to cup the back of her neck again. “I’m here,” he mutters against her mouth, her nails scraping along the skin of his shoulder before her hand unclenches and just rests against the skin instead. “I’m here, sweetheart.” 

He’s quiet after that, eyes closing. The metal floor of the bunkroom is cold and hard on his knees, and the air of the Falcon’s damp and a little muggy from not using the circulation system, and he can still hear the thunder crashing and the water pounding against the cave protecting them. But over it he feels her skin, warm beneath his hands, and can hear the sounds of their lips as he pulls back and dives in over and over again. She’s getting better; he doesn’t taste blood this time, thank the Maker, and she’s learning that teeth don’t always have to clash or be used against lips. He buries his hand in her hair as she runs her nails along his scalp, tugging at his dark strands, and by the time he pulls back they’re both a little breathless. 

“It won’t happen,” he breathes. “Whatever the kriff you saw, I’m not gonna let it happen.” He's not sure what good he'll be up against a Force user, but he's willing to give it his best shot if it means she doesn't get hurt.

She sinks into him, and he holds her as she sags, exhausted. He stares at her, watching as her dark brows furrow and she's suddenly stilling in his arms, hands dropping to his shoulders instead of being clenched in his hair. “What massacre?” she demands. 

He stares at her, and it takes him a good moment to realize that he’s never mentioned it to her. And with her being on Jakku, and thinking that his uncle’s a legend, she’d probably either never heard of it or never made the connection. 

Oh, Maker. He’s going to have to explain it to her, isn't he?

“… let me sit, all right? The floor's killing my knees,” he mutters, pushing back from her and moving back to sit on his ass. He turns and leans his back against the wall as she comes back down to lean back on her feet. “How much have you heard of my uncle?” 

“Not much,” she admits. She shifts and settles beside him, her shoulder against his upper arm as she pulls her knees to her chest. “Who was…?” she asks, trailing off. He understands her question immediately, and though he doesn't want to answer it, he does.

He sighs, tilting his head back against the wall and letting it connect with a soft ‘thunk’. “… children,” he mutters. “They massacred children.”

Even after all this time, even after six years, his voice still breaks. His throat feels constricted, and though he doesn’t feel the sharp heat of tears behind his eyes quite yet, there’s no promising that they won’t come. He bends his right leg, pulling it up so that he can brace his right elbow on his knee and bury his hand in his hair. “I was off-planet, in space near Nar Shadda,” he explains, voice gruff as he fights through the tightness of his throat. “Mom commed me, saying … saying that the First Order had attacked the temple. My uncle was trying to recreate the Jedi Temple, trying to start a new generation of Jedi. He was doing a damn good job of it. A lot … a lot of my friends were students.” 

It’s getting harder to talk, now, but he can feel Rey’s hand on his forearm, squeezing gently as she waits for him to go on. He glances towards her through the hair that’s fallen in his face, using his hand to push some of it out of the way as she continues to watch him.

“That’s what you saw,” he mumbles. “You saw when she commed me. Uncle disappeared after that. The only reason we know he’s not dead is because of Mom. She insists she would’ve felt it, that she knows when he’s in danger and when he isn’t. She found out before anyone else, said she … said she felt the deaths of the students. Maker, Rey, there were kids as young as three in that temple.” 

He knows he sounds desperate as he runs his hand down his face with a sigh. 

“How long-?” 

“Six years,” he explains quickly. “It’s been six years.” His throat feels almost entirely closed up, and he can feel the prick of tears. He sighs softly, laughing. It’s a strange empty sound, entirely without humor as he tips his head back against the wall again. “Maker, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m sorry, I’m so-“

Her calloused hand reaches out and grabs his jaw, and she's suddenly in his lap. He barely has time to take a shaky breath before she’s kissing him forcefully, lips almost bruising against his. He lets her kiss him, moving his lips back against hers as best as he can. Her nails dig against his scalp and he grabs at her, trying to pull her closer. It’s anything but elegant, anything but sweet. Now he does taste blood, but he doesn’t give a damn as his arms wrap around her like a vice, pulling her against his chest. His breathing's shuddery, both from resisting the urge to scream and cry and from how harshly she's kissing him.

She nips and sucks at his lower lip, tugging it back with her before releasing and panting against his mouth. 

The sudden shriek of a nearby TIE fighter startles them both, and Ben’s incredibly grateful they’d stopped for breath because he’s not entirely sure he wouldn’t have bitten her lip, or her his. They pull back from each other, exchanging a terrified look as another fighter screeches, this time closer to the Falcon. Chewie roars from down the hall, panicked as the emergency lights flicker.

“Sithspit,” he curses as she scrambles off of him. He pushes himself off of the floor as she lunges for the door, the scavenger already rushing out and turning towards the power systems. “Take the cockpit, kid, I’m turning on the power!” 

He can hear Chewie’s loud growl from the lounge and rushes right past the Wookie to the power station. “I know, I know, we gotta go!” he calls, rushing to flip switches and turn levers and yank at cranks. He turns when he sees smaller hands helping him. “What part of ‘take the cockpit’ did you not understand, sweetheart?!” 

“There’s no sense in ‘taking the cockpit’ when there’s no power to prep!” she snaps, trying to reach up to pull a lever. She’s a few inches too short, though, and he reaches up to get it for her as she goes back down from her tiptoes to flip the switches on her left. 

“Chew, how much start up time do we have?” he calls. The Wookie roars back. 

20 minutes. They have 20 minutes to wait before everything’s booted up again, and then they have to wait a minute and a half or so more before they can hyperdrive out of here. 

“Fuck,” Ben hisses as another TIE screeches overhead. “How’d they find us, I turned off the sensors?!” 

“I don’t know,” Rey insists, turning on the last system. The air around them is filled with whirs and groans as the ship powers up again. 

“Turn off the emergency lights,” he says and she runs to flip them off. “It’s still raining, and it’s still night. If they don’t see the lights, they won’t see us.”

She flips the switch down, and he runs to the cockpit to make sure the jammers are on to prevent them from being found. The entire ship is dark, now, and he has to find his way by memory to find her again. Chewie roars from somewhere to his left, and then he tries to find Rey. He finds her arm and pulls her against him. “Chew?” 

Chewie growls, five or so paces to Ben’s left, and the smuggler listens for any more screeching TIE fighters. 

He hears two, but they’re further away, now. At least, that’s what it sounds like over the roar of the water surrounding them. 

“Time to power?” he asks Chewie, feeling the need to mumble as if the TIE fighters could hear him in the privacy of his own ship. It’s ridiculous, but he does it anyway. 

The Wookie growls. 15. They have 15 minutes before they can get out of here. 

“We’re gonna book it to Dantooine,” Ben mutters. “Throw off their trail.” He glances down towards where Rey’s standing near him, her hand on his forearm to keep from losing him in the low light of the ship. “Hopefully we can keep them away from the base, buy the Resistance a bit more time.” He glances down towards Rey. “You’re piloting, kid.” 

“What?” she demands, letting go of his arm. “Where are you going to be?” 

“Chewie can’t fit in the gunners, someone’s gonna have to be down there,” he insists. “Unless you want to go, I’ll do offense.” He looks in the general direction of his uncle. “Chew, you’re copiloting.” 

The Wookie grunts in affirmation, since Ben can’t see him nod. 

13 minutes. 

Ben pushes Rey towards the cockpit. “Go, sweetheart, I’m going towards the gunners. Chewie, help her.” He finds her hand in the dark, squeezes it before he’s turning and rushing towards the station. He uses his memory of the ship to find the opening to the gunners, and uses his hands to guide him down. Though the main lights are off, he can still see the dim lights of the controls, and slides into the seat. “Chewie!” 

The Wookie roars a number back. 8 minutes. It took him five to fumble his way through the hallways and make his way down into the gunners. He grabs the headset, pulling it on his head as he looks out into the rain and the darkness of the cave around them. 

There’s another screech from the TIE fighters, closer this time. 

“Sithspit!” 

7 minutes. 

His hands find the controls, and he takes a deep breath as he sees a dark shape fly right past the mouth of the cave. “C’mon, c’mon, just another few minutes, and then we’re out…” 

He’s shocked when the ship starts suddenly, all power systems go earlier than expected. Part of him's convinced that his scavenger's involved, somehow, and he laughs breathlessly. The controls spring to life underneath his touch, and he rocks with the gun as the lights flicker on and he’s given access to the weaponry. “Rey!” 

“I know!” she yells back. “Prepping hyperdrive!” 

The TIE fighters are louder now, and his eyes widen as he sees the one flying by the mouth of the cave – this time, it’s no longer generic dark shape and definitely the tell-tale form of the TIE. “ _Rey_!” 

He aims and fires through the rain at the TIE and it explodes in a shower of sparks and broken metal. Not long after, the Falcon lurches forward and takes off like a shot towards the cloudy skies. 

She’s never flown in rain before, he realizes. She’s never flown through clouds, never had to deal with the thunder and lightning around them. 

Thunder claps and lightning flashes, and he hears her shriek as the ship jerks to the right. He bangs his bare shoulder against one of the sides of the gunner’s seat and curses as the metal hits the blaster wound. “Kriffing - it’s okay, sweetheart! Just go!” 

A TIE comes from the clouds, and his eyes widen as it’s upon them within seconds. He aims and fires, watching as it explodes and the destroyed ship plummets down through the clouds. 

She must’ve gotten her act together because they’re taking off through the clouds. He downs one more TIE, watching the ship fall through the clouds and fog to the water below before they exit the atmosphere, and then they’re out in space. He thanks the Maker that there aren’t any more TIEs; the ones they encountered were more likely scouts searching for their location than an actual fleet. He sighs, but doesn’t relax quite yet. 

Rey hits hyperspeed not long after, and with the knowledge that his father had modded the ship to outrun anything, he pulls the headset off. “You all right, kid?” he calls, looking up as he turns to climb back out of the gunners. 

“Fine!” she calls back. He hoists himself up and grins at the lights inside the ship, the power systems up again. 

“Chewie, set course for Dantooine,” he orders as he walks into the cockpit. “You sure you’re all right, sweetheart?” 

“Fine,” she says, again. “Do you see any-“

“More TIEs? No, they were most likely scouts out for our location. But the jammers and scanners are still activated, so I’m willing to bet if they had any friends they won’t follow us.” He looks towards the stars they’re passing by. “… well, that was a lot more adventure than I would’ve liked.” 

Chewie groans, and Ben rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, you can go back to bed,” he says, waving his uncle off as the Wookie stands and shuffles his way back to the larger bunk in the lounge. Rey’s smile’s soft and a little sleepy, as well, as she watches the Wookie. Ben collapses into the copilot’s, running a hand through his hair and grinning at her.

“What do you say, sweetheart? Want to go back to bed? I’ll stay here, if you want,” he offers. “Keep an eye just in case.” 

“I’ll just stay here,” she says, climbing out of the copilot’s so he could settle into the pilot’s. He gratefully takes the chair he knows best as she settles into the one he’d just vacated, pulling her knees up to her chest and turning sideways in the chair as her eyes find the stars again.

“Dantooine. Naboo. Takodana. D’Qar. Where else is green?” she asks. 

He leans back in the chair, frowning. “Well, I could take you to Yavin IV,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I spent a lot of my childhood there, or at least what I think could count as a lot. “Endor.” His smile turns a bit sad. “I wish I could take you to Alderaan.” 

“Alderaan?” 

He glances her way, notices her eyes are half-closed. His smile broadens a bit. She must be more tired than she wants to let on. He’ll save the sob story for another time, then.

“Yeah,” he says. “Mom was the princess of Alderaan. Said it was beautiful.” He reaches out to run his hand along the edge of the console. “Mountains, everywhere. Green, and blue, and white. It was known as the ‘planet of beauty’.” 

“I’d like to go.” 

Her eyes are fluttering shut, and he can tell that she’s struggling to stay awake. He doesn’t blame her; after the scare she had with the vision, and the event with the TIEs, he’s not surprised she’s falling asleep sitting sideways in the copilot’s. 

He stands, walking over and putting one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back. “C’mon, kid,” he mutters, scooping her into his arms. She seems to wake up a bit, sitting up slightly as he carries her through the ship. “I’ll wake you when we get to Dantooine, all right?” 

She says nothing, instead leaning against his chest. “I remember being carried like this.” 

“Do you?” he asks, glancing down at her to find that her eyes are open and she’s staring at her knees. 

“Yes,” she says, sounding confused. “I don’t … I don’t know when, but-“ 

“Don’t think too hard, your mind’s been through enough for one night,” he mutters as he carries her into his room on autopilot. He sets her down on the bed, tugging the blankets up and over her legs before he reaches for the shirt he’d discarded earlier. He tugs the fabric over his head as she lies down on the bunk, curling up. “Come get me if you need anything, all right? Any more visions, any more … anything. I mean it, kid.”

He doesn’t get an answer, the scavenger already fast asleep. He smiles a bit, shaking his head as he tugs his boots on and walks back out to the cockpit. 

They have an hour to get to Dantooine. It’s not much, he knows, but it’ll be a bit of a help, he hopes as he collapses into the copilot’s chair, bringing his bruised knuckles to his mouth. 

_They can’t – they wouldn’t!_

He frowns at the phrase that echoes in his head, feeling the sharp tug of his rough knuckles against the skin of his lower lip as he runs the joints across his mouth. He doesn't remember saying it, but Rey had been adamant, repeating it from the vision and sounding so sure of herself. 

He shrugs, eyes turning once more to the stars as he chalks the lack of recollection up to tragedy and horror blacking out parts of the memory he so badly wants to burn from his brain. 

-

"Sir, the Millennium Falcon, it ... it escaped two of our scout fighters. No word on where it was headed at the time of it's escape, sir."

The bridge falls silent, all eyes towards the general and the Force user standing beside him.

Hux glances towards Cor, half expecting the lieutenant cowering in front of them to be choked again. But instead Cor just stands silently, regarding the younger man. 

"... thank you," the man behind the mask mutters. "You're dismissed." 

Hux watches the blond leave before returning his gaze towards the Force user. "... what are you thinking?" 

"I'm thinking I need to speak to her."


	19. Dantooine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have the best theories, seriously. Can't wait to see what you all come up with next! So far votes seem to be in the 'evil twin' or Luke favor, but we'll just have to twiddle our thumbs until all is revealed ;)

For all the years he’s traveled, flying from one corner of the galaxy to the next both on Resistance business and his own, he’s never been to Dantooine. Why would he visit the planet? There’s no one to swindle, no one with valuable information on the First Order or with weapons for the Resistance to use against said radical power. It’s a planet of small settlements belonging to small families. No industrialization, no advanced technology, no reason for him to visit. 

Until now. 

He keeps eyes on the space behind them in case of followers. In the time it takes for them to travel from the ocean planet to the remote Dantooine, he hasn’t seen anyone, but that doesn’t mean they’re not being tracked. He sits in the cockpit, absentmindedly running the torn skin of his knuckles across his lower lip for the better part of the trip. 

Dantooine is on the complete other side from the galaxy as D’Qar. The farming planet’s his best bet at keeping the Resistance base from being discovered, and for keeping his family and friends safe. 

“Like I’d done a good job of that six years ago,” he mutters shaking his head as he looks to the stars. 

“What?” 

He glances up and sees Rey in the doorway. She’s fully dressed now, hair pulled back and his jacket on as she lingers against the frame, frowning at his words. 

“Nothin’, kid,” he sighs, shifting and turning his body towards her, giving her his full attention. “You could’ve slept more.” 

“Was too awake after the TIEs,” she explains, coming down to sit next to him. 

“Well, we’ll be entering the system in about ten minutes. From there, we’ll find the abandoned Rebel base and hunker down for a bit until I get word on the map.” He turns in the chair so that he's facing her now instead of where she was before, crossing his arms over his chest as she watches him. 

“You haven’t heard from Poe?” she asks.

“Not yet, no,” he admits. “And I swear, if he tells me we have to go to Tatooine and swindle a droid from the Jawas or something like that, I’m going to reprogram BB-8 to … I don’t know, do something.” 

Rey raises a skeptical eyebrow at him, the corner of her mouth quirking as she regards him curiously. “Can you program droids?” 

“… no, but I’d figure something out,” he admits, knuckles moving to his lips again. Her gaze follows his torn skin, and he pulls his hand away from his mouth to flex it and show her. “It’s fine. It’ll need more bacta soon, but it’s healing.”

“Do you usually punch walls?” He can't tell whether it's supposed to be a joke or not.

“No,” he says, shrugging. “It was just … a lot to process. I don’t even remember what I felt, just that I needed to get it out somehow.” 

She’s staring at him, he knows, so he just looks towards the stars again. “Dantooine’s boring, but it’s green,” he explains. “Fields, plains, plenty of running room. Don’t know what we’ll find at the Rebel base, considering it hasn’t been used in … Maker knows how long, but it’ll be a safe house for us for the time being.” 

“How long will we be there?” Rey asks. 

“As long as nobody comes and shoots at us, we’ll stay here until they give us a new lead on the map. From Dantooine, we’ll go wherever they tell us to. I hate wild bantha chases, but I’m willing to take a chance if it means finding my uncle.” Ben reaches up to run his hand through his hair, wincing as the strands tug at his roughened knuckles. “I would’ve been more hesitant before, but with the Dark side user…” He shakes his head, putting his hand back in his lap. “We’ll take any possibility we can get.” 

“It’s a he,” Rey says, and his gaze snaps to her. She’s staring right at him. “I saw him, in … whatever that was.” 

“Force vision,” Ben explains quickly. “Did you see his face?” 

She shakes her head. “No, I just heard his voice, and saw his mask.” 

“Poe said ‘he’ too,” Ben mutters. “Great, so we’re potentially dealing with a crazy mask-wearing laserbrain like my grandfather was, before he was 'redeemed' and all. Good. Fantastic. Marvelous. Krif everything.” 

Rey’s soft snort of laughter is just a bit comforting as he reaches forward to pull them out of lightspeed. He gently pulls the lever, pulling them up as they approach the olive green, blue, and brown planet. 

“Sorry it ain’t like Takodana, kid,” he mutters. “Or Naboo. It’s pretty dull.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her giving him a look. He turns to meet her eyes as she just stares at him. “I grew up on Jakku,” she says, a smile flickering across her lips. 

“… point taken,” he replies, entering the atmosphere of the planet. “All right, the Rebel base is along here somewhere.” 

The ship sails over the plains of yellow and lavender grass, the air from its path whipping the blades along. As he makes his way to the base, he can see Rey taking in everything from the blue skies to the spikey trees they occasionally pass over. It’s far from the lush environment of Takodana, but it’s not a desert planet, at least. 

The base is easy enough to find on the world of farms and fields. What was once a sophisticated, high-tech base has obviously fallen victim to the nature surrounding it. The landing pad is less pad and more grass, lavender blades poking up at odd angles from the duracrete surface. He guides the ship into the hanger that creaks but still opens at their arrival, and he lets out a lot whistle at the cleanliness of the place. 

“They really abandoned it,” he mutters. “I wonder if anything’s even here we can recover.” 

“There is,” Rey says knowingly, and he glances to her. He grins as she looks around, leaning forward on the console to see more out the cockpit windows. 

“All right, scavenger, we’ll go exploring,” he says. 

He hears his uncle’s roar of a yawn as the Wookie emerges from the lounge, and turns to see Chewie lumbering into the cockpit. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll make flatcakes,” Ben says, rolling his eyes at his uncle while he grins. “You want some?” he asks, looking towards Rey. 

“Flatcakes?” she asks, frowning. 

He stares at her, before realizing of course she’s never had flat cakes. He’d seen her portions, seen what she’d eaten on Jakku when he was pulling the crates up. The poor girl’d never had a pear before, how could he have expected her to have had a flatcake?

“We’re remedying this,” he mutters, pushing off from the captain’s chair and walking back towards the small kitchenette his father had installed for his mother, more as a joke than anything else. After eating his father’s horrible reheated, pre-prepared food and awful makeshift meals for years on end, Han had finally made a galley so that his wife could eat something that didn’t come out of a package. Ben’s grateful for it; it’s not the biggest space, sure, but it’s better than reheating packets of food every single time he wants to eat. 

“Flatcakes,” he explains, turning on the stove, “are a kind of pastry.” He reaches for the tin of flatcake mix he keeps on hand in one of the storage lockers, along with the sugar that he put on top instead of keeping the sticky fruit syrup that he’d put on the cakes back on D’Qar. Sure, they had a small conservator for some of the fresher things, but for the most part everything was either quickly made or reheatable even with the kitchenette. 

“Flatcakes are delicious, and I’m sorry I haven’t given you one before now.” He pulls out a pan from one of the storage lockers and puts it on the stove, getting some water from the multiprocessor and pouring it into a bowl. He uses the scoop he’d magnetically attached to the tin of flatcake mix to pour out the right amount of mix to make the right amount of flatcakes for three of them. Chewie eats three, he eats two, usually. He pours enough for Rey to have two, not wanting to overstuff her too quickly on the sweet cake. “Mom made them for breakfast a lot when I was little, before she’d leave for meetings.”

The kitchenette’s a bit cramped, but he lets Rey watch him as he pours the batter into the pan. She must be familiar with some cooking, at least, because she doesn’t jump as it sizzles on the heat. He can feel her against his shoulder, watching as he grabs a spatula from the same storage locker as the mix. It’s a small thing, to go with the small pan and the small stove, but it’ll get the job done. The pancakes are about the size of his hand, a decent size if they spread to fill the pan all the way. 

He watches and waits, the scavenger beside him. He glances down towards her. “Did you get any sleep, at least?” 

“A little,” she admits, watching as the batter begins to bubble. He waits a few more seconds before flipping it over. “Not much.” 

“Here’s to hoping we won’t have TIEs to interrupt us tonight,” he mutters before he realizes just how that sounds, especially when they weren’t exactly sleeping when the First Order scouts had attacked. “While sleeping. They won’t interrupt us sleeping. I hope.” 

Her smile’s fond as she looks up at him, and then back down towards the flatcake. “How do you know when it’s cooked?” 

“When it looks like this,” Ben says, poking at the warm top of the golden-brown cake. “When it looks kinda golden like that.” He flips it over, checking the other side. “And that one’s done.” 

With one hand holding the spatula the cake’s on, he uses his free hand to reach for three plates from one of the storage cabinets. He’s halfway through pulling one out when the subtle weight on his spatula’s suddenly gone, and he turns to see that the cake’s gone as well. His eyes dart to Rey, who has the cake to her mouth and is holding it with two hands. She pulls her mouth away, a very obvious crescent-shaped bite mark in the top of the cake.  
“… whut?” she asks around a mouthful of flatcake. 

He just blinks at her, still somewhat stretching to get the plate and with an empty spatula still hovering in the air. After a moment, he just grins and shakes his head. “Nothing, sweetheart,” he says, pulling two plates down instead of the three that he’d originally reached for. “Nothing.”

-

“Our contacts on Hosnian Prime have confirmed that the Millennium Falcon has not landed in any of the spaceports on the planet.” 

Hux stands aside as Cor brushes by him, mask and most of his outer clothes abandoned on the bench on the far side of the training room. He turns and watches as the Force user grabs a bottle of water and downs nearly half of it, the saber in Cor’s hand extinguished for the time being. After more than a half hour of searching for the other man, he'd found him in the training room, lifting large metal disks with his mind. Hux knows for a fact that those disks belong in the Stormtrooper training facilities instead of Cor's, but he says nothing as he watches the man drink. Water spills from his lips and down his throat, but the Force user pays it no mind. 

“They wouldn’t go to Hosnian Prime,” Cor breathes once he’s gulped his fill. “They’re not that stupid.” He slams the bottle down on the bench, the sound of metal clanging against metal echoing through the training room. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, flicking the water to the floor.

“I’m telling you what I know, commander,” Hux says stiffly, watching as the other man pulls a dark towel from his pile of clothes and wipes at his face. 

“Thank you for your efforts,” Cor offers, glancing towards the general. “Is there any other reason why you interrupted me?” 

Hux watches as the man sets his saber down on the metal bench and reaches for his shirt, tugging it over the black tank top he’s currently wearing. “I came to advise you to be careful.” 

“About what, General?” Cor asks, pulling the shirt down to cover his torso. 

“That your personal interest in Ben Solo doesn’t interfere with the fact that the girl you encountered on Coruscant is Force sensitive.” 

The other man laughs, but there’s no humor in the barking sound. “Why are you bothering with my interests, Hux?” he asks, pulling the coat on and buckling the wide leather belt around his waist before pulling on the black leather gloves over his hands. He reaches for his mask, tucking it under his arm before grabbing his saber and walking towards the general. Though they’re almost evenly matched in height, the Force user’s broader than the redhead. The general isn't intimidated by the other man, instead glaring right at him and narrowing his eyes.

“Because you’re reaching for the more attainable goal instead of the more important issue,” Hux replies.

“I need to speak to her before we do anything with the girl,” Cor explains calmly, looking down at the general. “Trust me, if the girl's a threat, she’ll be dealt with.” 

“And if the girl’s who you think she is?” 

“Then she’ll be dead before they can find Skywalker,” Cor replies. “Trust me.” 

“I don’t,” the general snaps back. “I will alert you of any information on the freighter’s whereabouts.” 

“Thank you, Hux.” His tone isn’t amiable, but it has perhaps the slightest tinge of appreciation, and Hux watches as the Force user slides his mask on and leaves the training room without another word.

-

“All right, kid. Grab your glow lamp, let’s go exploring.”

“Now?” Rey asks, wiping sticky fruit syrup from the side of her mouth with the back of her hand. The juice stains her skin pink, and Ben watches as she licks the skin, eyes still on his. 

He stares before shaking his head at her actions. “Yeah, I want to see how much of this base is usable. Any weapons we find are probably too old to be functioning well, but we can use some of the parts, maybe.” 

“Definitely,” Rey corrects, and Ben grins. “I can reuse almost anything.” 

“I don’t doubt it.”

The base is well and truly abandoned. The power’s out, and Ben figures they’ll either find the generator or just hunker down in the Millennium Falcon until they’re absolutely positive they haven’t been tracked. Between his own technical capabilities and Rey’s frankly scarily impressive ones, he’s sure they can jury-rig something to get the power going again in the base long enough for them to explore a bit deeper. 

The air’s mild as they step down from the Falcon, Chewie staying with the ship with a comlink. Ben’s is in his back pocket, and he has his blasters on his hips just in case. A quick survey using the ship’s systems proves that there are no lifeforms in the immediate area, but he wants to take precaution anyway. Rey has his uncle’s lightsaber strapped to her belt, and one of Ben’s blasters on her thigh. 

It’s not a wet planet, or a cold one. The air of the hanger’s not damp or too dry, and Ben’s starting to understand why they picked the planet for the base. Optimum flying conditions, though he’s unsure of what the rain patterns are here. Given that it’s a farming planet, he guesses it has to happen at some point, but has no idea when. 

He glances towards Rey as she makes sure the lightsaber’s secure to her belt. “You good?” 

“Lead the way,” she replies, giving him a quick smile. 

He grins back, heart suddenly light with the idea of her being with him. It’s a long shot, he knows, between her powers and the need to hone and train with them, and his uncle, but part of him wonders if there’s a possibility that she’d reject all that nonsense and come with him. 

She can’t, he knows, because if there’s one thing this galaxy needs it’s more than one capable light-sided Force user. But still, he thinks, as he glances down towards the young woman walking next to him with a glow lamp in her hand and his uncle’s lightsaber at her hip, there might be the slightest chance. 

Maybe. 

-

They cleared the place out well, probably moving everything to Yavin IV. But Rey bends towards panels often, finding their purpose and trying to reset the power. She pries open rusted doors with nimble fingers. “I’m going to need some of the things in your toolbox,” she explains as he leans against the wall next to her. She glances up at him, reaching to pull a loose curl behind her ear. “Do we even want to turn the power on?” 

“As long as we have the glow lamps, we should be good,” he says, shrugging as he holds the light up to her. “It all depends on how deep you want to explore.” 

“There could be some salvageable things here,” she says as she stands from the crouch she’d been in, pushing down on her thighs to propel herself upwards. “What do they need?” 

“Weapons,” Ben replies. “Funds, too.” 

“We can salvage a lot of it, if you know a place to sell it,” Rey explains, brushing her hands off on her pants. 

“I can think of a few places,” he admits, pushing off of the wall. “You think we can get some decent money for some of the things we could find here?” 

Her smile’s blinding in its happiness, and he sweats his heart skips a beat as she tilts her head enough that the piece of hair she tucked behind her ear falls right back. “I think we can.”

“All right,” he replies, jerking his head back towards the hangar where the Falcon and Chewie are waiting. “Let’s go get the toolbox.” 

They turn and walk back towards the hangar, his hands slipping into his pockets as Rey walks beside him. 

“… you said you had friends, in the academy.”

“Lots,” he replies, throwing her a grin that’s a bit sadder, a bit dimmer than he’d intended. But he plays it off, shrugging and kicking at the grass that’s grown up from some of the floorpanels of the base. “It’s easy to make friends when you’re the son of legends.” 

“Not really legends, though,” Rey protests. “Real people.”

“You haven’t heard my dad’s stories,” Ben says with a snort. “Have you heard about the time he fearlessly stormed the Death Star with my uncle behind him and rescued my mother single-handedly?” 

“No?”

“Good, because that’s really not how it went,” Ben replies, throwing her another grin and looking up at the extinguished lights above them before looking down the corridor again. “In reality, he and Uncle Luke disguised themselves as Stormtroopers, somehow managed to rescue my mother despite screwing up several times, and ended up in a trash compactor.” 

“That’s what you meant, back on Coruscant,” Rey realizes, and she smiles up at him as he glances towards her again. 

“Dad seems to think that anything can be solved by just shoving it into a trash compactor,” Ben explains. He frowns and stops dead in the middle of the corridor. Rey walks a few steps ahead before she realizes he’s stopped. “… actually, that might not be a bad way to deal with the rathtars on his ship.” 

“Does the ship have a trash compactor?” 

“That’s a very good question I don’t know the answer to, but remind me to com him when we get back to the ship,” Ben replies as he starts walking again. “I think I might’ve just solved his problem.” 

She smiles again, and he looks down towards her. He looks down at her instead of where he’s going, and ends up tripping on a loose panel. Her hands are reaching out to grab at his arm immediately, keeping him from faceplanting onto the dirty, old metal floor of the base. He rights himself soon after, brushing his hair out of his face. “I’m good,” he declares, looking down towards where she’s staring at him, confused as to how he’d managed to trip. “… loose panel,” he says, blindly gesturing with his free hand back towards where he’d fallen. “I’m good.” 

She shakes her head and lets him go. They walk in silence for a moment, and Ben slips his hands back into his pockets before asking, “Do you think you’ll ever want to go back to Jakku?” 

She’s quiet. He watches her face for any sort of sadness, any sort of lingering longing for the planet she’d called home for so long. There’s a flicker of it, for a moment, the slightest downturn of her mouth and a shift in her eyes, but it’s gone before he can blink. 

“… maybe,” she admits. 

“Do you regret leaving?” 

“No.” That answer’s immediate. 

“Good.” He bends a bit to bump his hip against hers. “I like having you onboard. It’s been just me and Chewie for too long, I needed a fresh face.” 

“I like being onboard,” she replies. “I’ve always wanted to fly a starship. Ever since I found the simulator on Jakku, I’ve … I’ve dreamed, I guess, of flying.” 

“I’ll let you fly sometimes,” he says, turning to wink down at her and take in her wide-eyed, shocked stare. “Sometimes, kid. I’m captain, after all, but som-“

He’s yanked down by the collar of his jacket, and his eyes widen as she presses a kiss to his stubbled cheek. 

“Thank you,” she whispers as she pulls back down, moving down from her tiptoes. 

He recognizes, immediately, that it’s not just a ‘thank you’ for offering to let her fly the Falcon. It’s a hell of a lot more than that. It’s a thank you for feeding her, for giving her new clothes, for giving her the opportunity to leave that junkyard of a planet and form a new life. It’s a ‘thank you’ for finding her. 

For liking her; maybe even loving her, though he's not entirely sure.

“… anytime, sweetheart.”

-

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how cute she looks wearing his welding goggles. 

“Hydrospanner?” 

“Which one?”

“B.”

He pulls the tool from the kit and hands it to her. She’s in the ceiling of the base. He’d helped her up into it when she saw a vent, and he’s watching her carefully to make sure she doesn’t tumble from the crude opening she’d cut with the lightsaber. 

She pokes out of the hole a moment later, goggles pushed up onto her forehead and hand open, her other braced against the side of the hole to keep her from pitching forward. “Demagnetizer.”

He grabs the tool and hands it up to her. He hears clanking and a moment later the tool’s being tossed back down to him. He sets it back into his kit before looking up at her. She’d taken the glowlamp up with her, and he’s left in the dim hallway as he watches her work. 

He’d offered to help, offered to grab the magnet-rope and hoist himself up with her, but she’d assured him that she’d much rather he’d be on the ground to hand her things than cramped up with her. 

“Ha!” 

He hears her triumphant sound, and a second later a piece of metal’s falling from the ceiling. He jumps away from it as it clanks against the floor, and he stares as the piece rolls and stops at his feet. 

“You were supposed to catch that,” she scolds, and he looks up to find her peering down at him from the hole, looking at him like he smells like he just came out of a trash compactor. 

“Could’ve told me to catch it, sweetheart,” he mutters under his breath as he picks up the piece and puts it in the bag of scrap they’ve been collecting. “What’s next?”

“There’s a bunch of fuel piping up here. I must’ve found a line.” 

“If it has stuff in it, don’t you dare touch it,” Ben scolds, standing on his toes in an attempt to look up at her as she rummages around up there. “Rey, I mean it!” 

She pokes her head out again, now wearing the goggles. “Ben.” 

“I know, I know, you’re better at this than I am, but we don’t exactly have a bacta tank and I’d like to make it back to my parents in one piece, thanks,” Ben insists, putting his hands on his hips. 

“Hammer.” 

“Rey.”

“ _Hammer_.”

He sighs but hands her the hammer. There’s a huge ‘clank’ a moment later, and then a large grey tube is snaking from the hole. He steps back as it falls, piling up and coiling in on itself. There’s another clank a moment later, and then the other end of it is falling from the ceiling with a huge crash. He stares at the coiled fuel piping, and blinks. “… is that even valuable?” 

“Pretty,” Rey breathes, reaching down and offering him the handle of the hammer. He reaches up and takes it from her. “Do you have the rope with you?” 

“No, that’s why I offered to get it three hours ago,” Ben replies smartly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why, do you need my help with something? I can go get it.” 

She retreats back into the vent. “I don’t think there’s much else here. There’s some, but it’s not valuable. Just a handful of credits, at most, not worth the trouble it’ll take to get it. There’s some coolant up here, and it’s making me lightheaded.”

“Then get the kriffing hell down from there, what are you, a nerfherder!?” 

“No, I’m stuck,” Rey snaps, returning to the opening and looking down at him. “That’s why I’m asking for the rope.” 

He sighs, running his hand down his face in exasperation before holding his arms out. “Just jump.” 

“No.” 

“I’ll catch you.” 

“ _No_!” she insists, indignant. “I’m not jumping from the ceiling, Ben, go get the rope!” 

“Rey, it’s ten feet, maybe, I’ll catch you,” he insists. “I promise.” 

She stares at him for a long time before ducking back into the space. A Harris wrench falls a moment later, and he moves forward to catch it. She tosses down the tools that he’d handed up to her, the lightsaber, and the blaster. Once everything’s down, she moves so that she’s on the edge of the hole. “Are you sure about this?” she asks. 

“No, but I’m going to try,” Ben replies. 

“That’s not reassuring.” 

“Just jump, sweetheart,” he scolds. “I’ll catch you, it’s not that far of a fall.” 

It takes her a good few moments before she’s pushing herself through the hole she’d made. He holds his arms out, and in a split second she’s in them, warm and solid and heavier than he was expecting, honestly. He doesn't mind, though, holding her close to his chest. He grins down at her as she registers that he’d actually caught her. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” she breathes, staring up at him. 

He tightens his grip on her side and her thigh, adjusting her so that he can hold her more comfortably. “Want to take this stuff back to the ship? I can make us sandwiches.” 

“Sandwiches?” she asks, mouth downturning into a soft frown. 

“Sandwiches,” he repeats as he sets her down. “And then more scavenging.” 

She bends to pick up the heavy bag of scrap, but he knocks her hands away from the top of it. “Hey, no, too heavy,” he insists. “You take the toolbox.” 

“I can do it,” she protests. 

“I have no doubt that you can,” he replies. “But I’d rather you carry the toolbox than do something to your shoulders dragging this thing halfway across the hangar. We’ll come back with Chewie and get it, all right?” 

She stares at him before glancing towards the large mesh bag they’d brought, filled with tubing and heavy metal parts and power converters and cooling shunts. “… all right,” she admits, and he bends to pick up the toolbox. She tugs off the goggles and slips them inside, and they make their way back to the hangar. 

They don’t talk as much this time, just walking along the metal hallways that have started to become overtaken by the planet’s flora. Ben can see grass poking out from some places, its seed tracked in by either wildlife or curious farm kids. He can recall exploring himself, exploring on Yavin IV and D’Qar when they moved to the base. 

He glances down at the young woman next to him, wondering if she’d ever explored for fun instead of food. 

She doesn’t notice him looking at her, and he gets the simple pleasure of looking at her freckles, the skin of her cheeks and forehead streaked in old grease and grime and black marks from his goggles. Her hands are black as well, from handling the old parts, and he can smell the sweat, the harsh smell of the fuel, and the leather from his old jacket that she’d taken to wearing almost all the time. 

The corner of his mouth quirks up almost involuntarily as he watches her. 

The idea of having a romantic partner didn’t really interest him. The girls on Coruscant couldn’t fly as well as he could, and he couldn’t talk to them about the Falcon. The guys were a bit better, but many – genders aside - became preoccupied with the idea of him being Han Solo and Leia Organa’s son. The product of fame and legend. 

Rey didn’t care. Or at least, didn’t seem to. She chose his company over his mother’s and his father’s, even after meeting and getting on the good side of both, and it means more to him than it probably should. 

Besides, he thinks, eyes finding the saber on her hip. She’s sure to mean something in whatever legend they’re creating, if the saber’s anything to go by. And now, he guesses, he’s a part of it. 

For almost all of his life, he’d been nearly entirely certain that his story would’ve been short, and, and boring, and unextraordinary. She’d managed to change that. 

“You’re smiling.” 

Her voice cuts through his thoughts like a knife, and he blinks to find her frowning at him, concerned. 

He doesn’t drop the soft smile as he shrugs. “Just thinking.” 

“About what?” 

“Noth -“ he starts, but the comlink beeps and interrupts him. He frowns, glancing back towards his back pocket where the device is blinking at him. “Hang on. Hold this?” 

She takes the toolbox from him, and he reaches for the comlink, pulling it out. “Hey, Chew. We’re on our way back, what’s going on?” He’s quiet for a moment as he listens to his uncle, and looks down towards Rey’s cradling the toolbox in her arms and looking at him curiously. 

At the Wookie’s words, he groans, running his hand down his face and wanting to smash his head into the nearest hard surface. 

“You’ve got to be kriffing kidding me. Dad’s doing _what_?”


	20. En Route.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time since an update, huh? So sorry about that; hopefully they'll be coming sooner now that I'm getting back into the swing of things!
> 
> Though I'm not entirely sure if he's still reading, or if he'll be able to comment anymore since I disabled anon comments, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to one of my most beloved readers, PeterParker. He and his wife are truly amazing, and seriously some of the most supportive readers I've ever had, and I'm so incredibly grateful for their comments and input. I'm so sorry this took so long, but hopefully this chapter will help some of your undoubtedly amazing theories?

He can’t think of the last time he’s run so fast. Actually, wait, he can. He can think of several times he's run this fast- rathtars, most recently. Again, his father’s fault. But now he’s running up the ramp so quickly he nearly trips over his own big feet, stumbling onto the Falcon and grabbing onto the wall to help him swing around. He rushes into the cockpit, jamming his fist against the transmission radio. “Solo!” he barks, looking towards Chewie who’s sitting in the copilot’s. The Wookie just shakes his head, and Ben wants to groan at his father’s inane behavior.

He doesn’t even sit down, bracing his hands the captain’s seat. He can feel Rey come up beside him, and glances towards her as he waits for a response from Han, or anyone, really. 

“Calm down, your mother stopped me," Han explains, and he sounds like he's smirking. It's not exactly a comfort, but his words are.

Ben sighs in relief, closing his eyes and running his hand through his hair as he slumps over the top of the captain's seat. “Thank the Maker,” he breathes. 

“On the condition that your pilot and renegade friend came with me.” Han’s voice has no small amount of amusement in it, and Ben’s eyes snap open. He stares at the small radio that should’ve been replaced years ago.

“What?” he demands, the sound short. 

“Ben.” Poe’s voice comes through the tinny speaker. Relieved to hear his friend’s voice alongside his father’s, Ben slides into the captain’s seat, bracing his elbows on his knees as he leans forward to listen to what his best friend has to say. Rey stands next to him, one arm draped over the top of the chair and the other hand on her hip as Ben frowns, brow furrowed and gaze focused on the small speaker. “The General’s made a new plan.”

“New plan?” Ben asks.“Poe, what new plan?” His frown deepens and he looks towards Chewie. "Did they tell you this?" 

The Wookie shakes his head. 

“Find Luke without a map,” Han replies instead. 

“… great, so the same plan that we’ve been using for the past six years that hasn’t worked at all so far. Fantastic. Wonderful. It’s sure to work now,” Ben mutters. 

“Kid. Your mother’s been working the Resistance. She doesn’t have time to go on a wild bantha chase to find your uncle, all right? We’re doing this, and we’re doing this now before any more Dark side mumbo jumbo can spring up, you got it?” 

Ben knows that tone. The tone that he’s heard his father use so many times before, more often in his youth and a lot against his uncle. It’s his father’s _we’re doing this whether you like it or not_ tone, and he knows from experience that protesting will get him nowhere after it’s used. “Got it,” Ben replies, looking out towards the inside of the hangar they'd landed in front of. The lights are flickering now, thanks to a backup generator, and he watches one in particular as it goes on and off. “Where’s Mom sending you?”

“We’re going to Maz to see if she can tell us if she knows anything in the map, any system or planet or whatever. Your mother still thinks he’s at one of the first Jedi temples.” 

“That’ll take ages,” Ben mutters. “You have no idea how many there are.” 

“Which is why we’re going to see if Maz knows. You know how old she is, she’s bound to know something.” 

Ben stops, and stills at his father’s voice. There’s the slightest lilt to it, the tiniest bit of optimism. Hope, that’s what it is. His father’s hopeful. Hopeful that he’ll find his best friend. Ben sighs again, leaning more on the console. That’s right. Because not only had the galaxy lost a legend, but his father lost his best friend, his mother her brother, and he his uncle. He forgets, sometimes. He frowns. “Whose ship do you have? I thought you were going to get yours?” 

“One of the Resistance’s supply freighters.” 

“He wanted to go get the one with the rathtars,” Poe explains. 

“Yeah, I know, that’s what Chewie said he was doing,” Ben replies, looking towards his uncle who just shakes his head. Ben snorts and smirks as he looks back towards the radio.

“I paid good money for that ship, I need to get it back at some point!” Han insists, and Ben shakes his head, knowing full well that his father probably swindled it instead. 

“We found the Rebel base on Dantooine,” the younger smuggler explains, glancing towards Rey. Her eyes are focused on the radio, but they dart to him once she realizes that he’s looking at her. He offers her half a smile before looking back towards the speaker. “We found some things we can sell on the Outer Rim for a few credits, use for some supplies for the Resistance. Unless we’re part of this new plan, we’re going to keep here for a while. First Order’s on our tail, we ran into two TIE fighters. We took care of them, but they might’ve sent a signal alerting what system we were in. Mom say she need us?” 

“Krif if I know,” Han mumbles. “Your mother never tells me anything.” 

“Because you always refuse the transmission when she calls,” Ben mutters wryly. “Let me know what you find.” 

“We’ll keep you updated,” Poe replies. “We’ll let you know what Maz says, let you know if we need help.” There’s silence for a moment before, “May the Force be with you.” 

“May the Force be with you, too, Dameron. Return in one piece.” 

“That apply to everyone or just me?” 

“Just do your best,” Ben jokes before cutting the transmission. He looks towards Rey, taking in the oil on her face and hands from their scavenging. It’s in her hair, too, streaks of black mixed in with the dark brown. “You wanna wash up before we eat? Fresher’s between the bunks.” 

She nods and disappears down the hallway towards the hold, and he looks towards Chewie. 

The news of the massacre and his uncle’s disappearance had hit the Wookie just as hard as it had hit him. He doesn’t like to think of the Wookie’s anguished roar at the news, shoving the sound as far as he possibly can into the back of his mind. He hopes he’ll never have to hear it again, either. “What do you think of this?” he mutters, watching as the Wookie turns towards him. 

Chewie’s quiet for a moment before he roars softly. He doesn’t know. But it’s worth a shot. It’s better than anything they’ve done so far. 

Ben has to agree with him. Now they have a piece, a narrowed down area. They have no idea where the area is, sure, but it's a start. “Yeah,” Ben mumbles, reaching up to run his hand through his hair as he leans back in the captain's chair. “Yeah, right.” He looks towards the radio. “… I’m going to talk to Mom.”

Chewie nods and growls in understanding. Ben’s reaching for the transmission radio when he’s suddenly enveloped in brown fur, and he smiles against his uncle’s arm as Chewie bends and wraps him in a hug. Ben reaches up to pat at his uncle’s shoulder, closing his eyes and just enjoying the feeling of a hug for half a second. It was better when he was younger, when he felt as though he could crawl inside his uncle’s fur and disappear, when a hug that lasted for more than a few seconds made him feel warm and safe and protected. When the Wookie could pick him up – though he doesn’t doubt that Chewie could do that now if they had the headspace in the cockpit. They don't, he's sure, and he's not exactly tempted to test it.

“Yeah, buddy, we’ll find him.” He tries to copy his dad's tone, tries to find that same hope. But, honestly, it falls flat. 

The Wookie seems to hesitate for a moment before giving the young smuggler one more squeeze. Ben watches him go from the cockpit, watching as his uncle ducks his head to get out. He turns when there’s the alert of another transmission, and he frowns at the encrypted identification before he realizes. The Resistance.

He reaches forward and accepts it. “Solo,” he says, just to be safe. 

“Ben.” 

“Mom,” he replies, shifting in his seat and leaning forward in hopes that she’ll hear him more clearly. Her voice is crackly, barely hearable – understandable, since she’s on the other side of the galaxy. “Dad told me.” 

“I need you to go back to Tatooine.” 

His breath hitches in his throat so suddenly he nearly chokes. “Why?” he demands, looking out towards the landing pad at the flickering lights and empty supply crates. He doesn’t actually _see_ them, though; in his mind’s eye, he’s seeing warm sand and sun-baked stones and sunlit halls that are probably rubble now. He blinks, looking back down towards the speaker. “Why do you need me to go to Tatooine?”

“Because there’s a chance there might be some information there we could use that they didn’t get to.”

“Mom, it’s rubble, it’s ruined, whatever’s there is going to be unusable, I-“ he starts, but he’s cut off by his mom’s soft, “Ben.” 

His father had sounded hopeful, rejuvenated by the idea of a new lead, a new possibility. His mother sounds resigned, and tired, and completely and utterly hopeless. His name’s not much more than a sigh, and he clenches his hand on his knee, looking down at the small speaker before nodding though she can’t see him

“… we’ll head out as soon as we can,” he mutters. “We’ll see what we can recover. Maybe they didn’t hit something. Maybe something’s buried.” 

“Thank you, Ben.” 

“I love you.” 

It’s a quick sentence, just three short words said over the space of a breath. He doesn’t say it often. He needs to say it more. He knows his father does, too, but he guesses his parents have their own way of expressing their love for each other. He leans back in the captain’s seat, brushing his knuckles against his bottom lip as he hears his mother reply, “I love you, too.” 

There. There’s the slight bit of hope he was missing. He smiles a bit. “I’ll let you know if we find anything, all right? Let me know if you need me to go rescue Dad.” 

He severs the transmission and leans back in the chair again, crossing one leg over the other. He hears her before he sees her, her small boots making gentle clanging sounds against the metal floor of the Falcon. 

“… we need to go to Tatooine,” he mutters as she comes to stand next to him. He looks up to see that she's only ditched the jacket and let her hair down, auburn falling in crimped waves to her shoulders. She frowns down at him, hand finding his shoulder and squeezing through the leather of his jacket. 

“Why?” she asks. 

“Because Mom wants us to,” he explains, words curt as he looks back towards the radio. 

_“Why?”_ she asks again, more persistent this time.

“… I’ll explain later.” He leans forward to prep the ship, jerking his head towards the hallway. “Go tell Chewie we have a change in plans. We’ll pick up the scrap, and then high-tail it out of here.” 

Her arm’s warm as it wraps around his shoulder, and he stills as she brushes her lips against his cheek. He can still smell the sweat and oil and various fuel fluid on her. Her hand squeezes his arm, and he leans into her, eyes closing as he just takes this one moment of calm before what he’s sure is going to be a shit-show of emotions and old memories. Her lips skirt up to his temple, pressing there for a moment before she pulls back. He wonders where she learned that, the small gesture of comfort. Wonders if she picked it up from him.

“We’ll go get it. You stay here. Make those ... what did you call them, sandwiches?” Rey mumbles against his stubbled jaw. “Whatever those are.” 

“What, first flatcakes, now sandwiches?” he asks, pretending to be incredulous, but the breaking of his voice betrays him. “… I’m fine, sweetheart. Go tell Chewie.” 

He gets one more squeeze before she’s leaving and going back towards the hallway, looking for the Wookie. Ben opens his eyes and runs a hand through his hair, letting out a huff. “I kriffing hate sand.”

-

“Hell.” 

“Hm?” Rey asks around her mouthful of nut butter and Andorian jelly sandwich, looking up as Ben looks at the charter system. She’s sitting sideways in the copilot’s, legs over the arm and sandwich in her hands as Ben looks over the route. 

“It’s going to take us longer than I thought to get to Tatooine,” Ben mutters, running his hand down his face. “Kriffing hell. Of course it’s on the other side of the galaxy. She could've asked us to go to Takodana, but no, she had to ask us to go to Tatooine."

He hears Rey shift in her chair, and looks towards her as she moves to slide out of her position sideways. Her legs now on the floor, she leans forward frowning at the navigation system. “… are you sure?” she asks. 

“Pretty positive,” he mutters. “And that’s if we don’t stop somewhere to sell the parts we picked up.” 

She leans over, setting her sandwich on the console and pushing herself out of the chair so that she can lean over his shoulder. He moves accordingly, feeling the heat of her chest against his shoulder as she looks over the navigation system. “… Ord Mantell. Can we sell the parts there?” 

“Nuh uh,” Ben says, shaking his head so hard that his bangs wave in vision. He reaches up to push them back, glancing towards her and finding her frowning at him in confusion. “No way in kriffing hell am I taking you to Ord Mantell.” 

“Why not?” she demands.

“Bounty hunters, crime syndicates, nasty stuff,” he mutters, reaching over to take a sip of his can of fizzpop. It’s a bit flat, honestly – he has no idea when they last picked up a case of it, but it wets his mouth and has some sugar, at least. He drinks a few sips before looking towards Rey again. He points the can towards her. “I’m not taking you there. You thought Coruscant’s underbelly was bad? I’m not taking you to Ord Mantell.” 

Chewie roars from somewhere near the lounge, and Ben looks back towards the doorway before looking back at the girl leaning over him. “See? Chewie hates it. We’re not going there unless we have to, and right now we definitely don't have to."

“So are we going to drop the parts off someplace, or are we just heading towards Tatooine?” she asks, frowning at the brightly lit routeline on the screen. 

“I’m thinking the sooner we get started, the better,” he replies, reaching for the hyperdrive to prime it. She settles back into the copilot’s, sandwich still on the console. He snorts, taking it off so that he can get to what he needs and handing it to her. “Finish that first," he says as she takes the sandwich back. "We’re not in that much of a rush. Ten minutes isn’t going to-“ 

In all honesty, she hadn’t had that much left. But he still blinks in surprise when she finishes the rest of it in three bites flat and primes the shields, reaching up to start the rest of her side with her cheeks still full. 

“… make a difference,” he finishes, watching her. He opens his mouth, but then remembers the portion packs, and shuts up as he watches her lick her fingers of Andorian jelly. She reaches over, taking his soda and sipping from it to rid her mouth of the bread, nut butter, and jelly. He smiles a bit, the left corner of his mouth quirking up slightly as he watches her use her free hand to prime the fuel gauge. 

“… Chewie, we’re heading off,” he calls, once she’s set the can back down on the console. He grabs it, takes one more sip before tossing it back onto one of the passenger chairs. “Buckle down, all right? Rey's got the co' handled.

His uncle’s answering growl tells him that the Wookie heard their conversation. Ben turns as Chewie steps through the cockpit doorway and stops, looking at the can in the seat behind Ben’s. 

“Yeah, I know, I’ll pick it up later,” Ben mutters, hearing his uncle’s soft growl and seeing him shake his big furry head out of the corner of his eye. “We’ve gotta get going if we’re going to get there fast.” 

As they jump into hyperspace, out of the corner of his eye he can see Rey’s soft grin as she watches the sky blend into stars. He admittedly pays more attention to her than on the space in front of him, thanking the Maker for autopilot. Despite how many times they’ve blasted into space within the past few days, she still seems in awe of it, and he hates to think about how many times she must’ve dreamed of going into hyperspeed with her family at her side, leaving Jakku behind.

He watches her for another moment before standing and tapping her on the shoulder. She looks up at him and he bends to grab the can. “C’mon, let’s see how many times I can beat you at Dejarik.” 

Chewie roars, and Rey grins as Ben glares at him. 

“No, I’m not going to let her win!” the smuggler insists, though he knows full well he will.

He can hear his uncle’s laughter as he puts his hand on the small of Rey’s back and guides her towards the game table.

-

He watches as her holomonster explodes into a pile of green holographic gunk, and snorts, looking up at her. “You’re shit at this.” 

Her glare’s sharp. “I’ve played it twice,” she protests. 

“And yet you’re still losing when I’m _actively_ trying to let you win,” he replies, grinning as he clears the game with a press of a button. The holomonsters flicker out and then reappear a moment later, all well and ready to fight yet again. 

“ … the academy.” 

The two words catch his attention, even as softly as they’re said. He looks up, and finds that she’s leaning on the table, crossed arms cutting through half of the holomonsters. “Hm?” he asks, feigning obliviousness as she stares at him. She knows, it's obvious. He wonders if she'd seen it in her visions

“The academy,” she replies quietly. “The academy is on Tatooine, isn't it?” 

“Was,” he mutters, reaching to turn the game table off. Her gaze darts down to the surface as the lights and figures flicker off, but then it shifts back to him as he crosses his arms and leans on the table as well. “It was on Tatooine.” 

“Your mother thinks Luke’s there?” Rey asks, frowning. 

“Mom thinks that some of Luke’s research is there. I guess they didn’t look too deeply into it. The structure itself is bound to be unstable, now. And might be inhabited by a few not-so-friendly creatures. Maybe Sand People, maybe Jawas, who knows?” Ben asks, shrugging as he leans back and drapes his arm around the back of the lounge seat. “She’s set on him having been looking for the first Jedi temple. I never heard him say anything about it, but I guess she spoke to him more often than I did. Or maybe she can feel that he’s there. I don’t know, I don’t know how that Force bond thing works.” 

“Force bond?” 

“Sibling thing. I think. They didn’t really bother to explain it,” he mumbles. “They don’t really explain much.”

She’s quiet, observing him as he shrugs again. “… have you gone back since?” 

“No,” he admits. “Didn’t see the need to. Most of the bodies were delivered back to their families and home planets for proper burials.” 

He makes it sound so mundane. Like he’s telling her how long it’ll take to get to Tatooine, or how to disassemble a blaster, or how to navigate the skylanes on Coruscant. He keeps his eyes on the table, wishing that he’d turn it back on so that he’d have something to stare at other than the lines of the game deactivated game. 

“We’ll get in, check the ruins, see if there’s anything there. I doubt there would be, but who knows?” He shrugs again. “It’s worth a shot, at this point. Anything’s worth a shot, especially when we have a Dark user on our tail.” He glances up at her. “So it’s a he.” 

She nods. “I didn’t see his face.” 

“Well, here’s to hoping that you’ll see it in one of those visions eventually,” he mutters, looking towards where Chewie’s emerging from the hold where they’d dropped the scrap. “Hey, big guy. What’ve you been doing?” 

Chewie growls in response, and Ben raises an eyebrow. 

“Organizing? Really,” he replies, snorting. “How’s that blaster burn treating you? Need any more bacta on it?”

The Wookie shakes his head and slides in beside Rey. She scoots over to let the Wookie in, grinning as he reaches over her and presses his large hand against the side of the game. It starts up again, and Rey moves her arms off of the table. Ben raises an eyebrow as Chewie looks down at her and growls the offer of a game. 

“Sure,” she replies, smile bright as she selects her monsters. 

“No tearing her arms off, all right? I like her in one piece, thanks,” Ben warns immediately, smirking as her eyes dart to him and Chewie chuckles before moving his first holomonster.

-

The hologram is blurry, thanks to the distance between them. She’s somewhere off in Wild Space, they’re in Unknown Territoty. Her figure flickers in and out, and the General can see the scan lines across her face. It’s a poor man’s holoprojector, and he’s protested to it before, but the Force user insists that it works just fine for their uses.

“They’re headed towards Tatooine. A bounty hunter intercepted a message from the Resistance to the freighter,” Cor explains. His mask is removed, the hologram projecting from the device on the table in his quarters. 

Hux, watching from where he’s seated across from the Force User, can see the young woman's slight frown, her own mask removed and set beside her in her private quarters on her own ship. “Are you sure?” she asks, leaning forward in her chair so as to hear him better. Hux is willing to bet that the quality of her reception isn’t stellar either, being almost entirely across the galaxy in her search for Skywalker.

“Nearly positive,” Cor replies. “Though I can’t say whether the information came from a reliable source.” He moves his gaze towards Hux, and though it’s not exactly a glare, Hux can sense his trepidation.

“In a case of possible false information, or no information at all, which would you prefer, Cor?” Hux asks, narrowing his eyes at the other man. 

“They’re headed towards the academy.” Her voice skips, and her figure flickers again. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

A short beep from the General’s communicator draws both his and the man across from him’s attention to it. Cor’s eyes find the slim device on Hux’s belt, and the General pulls it out, nodding towards him. 

“I’ll let you know if we receive any more information,” he mutters, nodding towards the young woman projected before him. 

“Thank you, General,” she says. 

The Force user remains silent, offering only a nod towards Hux before turning and watching the hologram as the General slips out, the doors sliding behind him with a soft ‘hiss’ and leaving the two to talk. 

“He’s headed towards the academy,” she says immediately.

“We’ve already searched it. Multiple times,” Cor offers, frowning in memory of the place. “There’s nothing for them there. Any information he either took with him or destroyed.” 

“Unless there’s something we don’t know,” the young woman replies, still frowning. She leans back in her chair as Cor leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together. She drapes herself across the back of it, obviously thinking before shrugging. “It’s possible.” 

“Do you want me to join you?” he asks. "On Tatooine?"

“I think I can handle it.” She smirks as her image flickers again. He watches as she raises one brow at him. “What, do you think I can’t?” 

“The girl. I’m wondering if you can handle the girl,” Cor mutters. “She’s Force sensitive.” 

“Trained?” 

“Uncertain, but doubtful.” he replies. “I don’t think she’ll be a threat.” 

“Then stay where you are, and I’ll bring him to you.” 

\- 

He’s always kind of enjoyed the quiet time in between planets. When he was younger, it was a time filled with games and stories. It was watching his parents bicker occasionally, getting kisses dropped on the top of his head by his mother and watching his uncle show off by blocking a remote’s blasts with his saber. Child’s play, one of the training exercises they’d have at the academy, he’d learn later. But to a toddler, watching the clash of lights, and hearing the buzz of the remote and the hum of the saber was more than enough entertainment. The memories are fuzzy, now, but he can remember the light of the saber and the shot of the remote hitting the blade, the metal of the remote warm after his uncle was finished with it and set it in his pudgy little hands to observe despite his mother's protests that it was still set to 'stun' and could go off at any time. That was quiet time for him, bickering and smiles and a family not yet divided.

Now, quiet time means sitting at the Dejarik table and watching Rey as she fiddles with some spare parts in an attempt to make something work, at least. He’s sitting sideways, arm draped over the back as she bites at her lower lip and pries the small radio apart, each little piece held up for inspection before she repairs it. 

It’s an old radio, one with a bent antennae and stubborn dials, but she’s intent on finding some use for it. He smiles a bit, watching her as she disassembles another inner piece down to its basic wires and gears and boards. 

“Did you ever make anything yourself? On Jakku?” he questions. 

“Some,” she replies, gaze focused on the project in front of her. “But if it was working, it went to Plutt. If it didn’t work and could be fixed, I fixed it, but if it didn’t work than I just gave it up anyway.” She hums softly, frowning as she tries to pry a stubborn gear off with pliers. 

“What would a radio like that get you?” he asks, nodding towards the device. 

“Maybe half a portion, one if he was feeling generous,” she explains, never taking her eyes from the gear. “Oh, come on-“ 

The gear pops off and flies towards him. He raises his hand and catches it in his palm, closing his fingers around it and feeling the sharp teeth of it as they prick his skin. It's no bigger than his thumbnail, and he's honestly surprised he caught it instead of it sailing across the room and disappearing into the nooks and crannies of the old ship. “Nice shot,” he teases, grinning.

“Nice catch,” she replies seriously as she opens her palm for the gear. “But I do need that.” Her smile's slight as she nods towards his fist.

He smirks and offers it to her. She plucks it from his hand and sets it on the table where the rest of the pieces are organized. He can’t make heads or tails of how they’re set, but it seems to make sense to her, and that’s what matters as she fiddles with the device. 

Ben frowns, memories of the remote and his uncle dawning on him. And if he knows his father … “Hang on, I’ll be right back.” 

“Where are you going?” she demands, stopping her fiddling right away and looking up at him with big brown eyes. 

He stops midway through pushing himself out of the lounge, and blinks at her in surprise. “… I’m not leaving you, kid,” he assures her. “I promised you that. Besides, we’re in hyperspace. Not exactly going to drop out of the airlock,” he teases, grinning as she relaxes just a bit at his promise. She doesn’t continue working, though, as he walks towards the storage units just across the way. “I’m seeing if we have a remote. Uncle Luke used it when he was first training. An old man by the name of Obi-Wan Kenobi had him use it to feel the Force, whatever that means.” 

He can feel her gaze on his back as he rummages through one storage unit, frowning at some piece of junk his father collected for some reason. He shakes his head and sets it aside before reaching back and feeling for any sort of round metal. He grins as his fingers find something that feels similar to the round ball that his uncle had let him hold only a handful of times before. “Ah ha!” 

Ben pulls the remote from the storage unit and shows it to her, holding the ball between his forefinger and thumb so that she can observe it better. He tosses it up, watching it as it comes down before catching it in his palm. He does it again, nodding towards the lightsaber on her hip as he tosses it up yet again. “Uncle used it at the academy for the students, sometimes. I’d watch them as they blocked the stun blasts," he explains, catching it. 

“Stun blasts?” she asks, voice going up in question as she slips from the lounge and walks towards him, standing in front of him and frowning at the small device. He throws it up once more before catching it again and offering it to her. 

“Stun blasts,” he repeats, still grinning. “Want to try it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the awesome comments, and I'm sorry I had to disable anonymous ones. A spammer has been attacking the comments of my stories and several other authors as well, and I turned anonymous comments off to avoid said spam.


	21. Tatooine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, huh? Sorry for the wait, had no idea how to write this chapter. It's a bit on the short side, but the next chapter I'm planning on being action and emotion packed, so this is just the necessary set-up.  
> Thanks for not giving up on this one!  
> No warnings are required for this chapter.

“You know,” Ben says, watching as Rey misses the blast from the remote for the umpteenth time. He smirks from his place on the lounge, spread out across it as he observes her trying – and failing – to keep her own against a tiny palm-sized ball of metal. “Call me a nerfherder, but I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to do it.” 

He’s glad he didn’t set it to the stun blasts, instead having it set on the mock light discharges. He raises his eyebrows as Rey glares at him, and smirks as she misses another shot and promptly curses something in some language he’s unfamiliar with. 

Chewie roars from where he’s settled beside the smuggler, and Ben snorts. “Yeah, I’m glad I set it to easy, too,” he teases. 

The scavenger stops, grabbing the remote right out of the air and turning it off before tossing it towards Ben with a good amount of force. His hand shoots up and catches it, still smirking as she returns to the lounge and collapses beside him. 

“You could give me some instruction, you know, besides ‘try not to get hit’,” she snaps as she extinguishes the lightsaber and tosses it onto the table with a hefty ‘clank’. 

“Careful with that,” Ben warns, but Rey just huffs in frustration. “Hey, don’t be like that. You’re better than I could be at it. And you have no idea what the kriffing hell you’re doing. You did pretty good for the first time.” 

At his praise, she stops, pinched brow disappearing before she leans against him. Her skin’s cool from the exercise, having gone at it for hours to kill some time. He has the sudden urge to kiss her temple to reassure her that yes, she did a good job, and he’s just being an ass for the hell of it. He gives in and kisses her near her hairline, finding sweat beaded on her skin, damp against his lips. At the kiss, she slumps, and curls into him a little more. 

“I did better on Coruscant,” she says, and he can’t argue with that. He shrugs a little, not enough to disturb her but enough that she feels it. 

“You were also in a life-threatening situation with adrenaline running through your veins,” he explains, hand lifting to pull her hair from the loose bun that she’d wrapped it into. He runs his fingers through the tangled strands, trying to get the knots out as best as he can without hurting her. He feels her wince, but she says nothing and curls closer. “It’s different. I’m a much better shot when my life’s on the line than I am with a target in front of me.”

She says nothing, and for a few moments all he can hear is their breathing and the hum of the ship around them as it speeds through the stars. He looks down at her, and sees that her eyes are closed, her face tucked against his shoulder and body turned towards his. 

How long as it been since she’s had someone hold her? 10 years? 15? 20? How old is she, anyway? 

How many years did she endure loneliness? How many years did she spend on that dustball of a planet without so much as a hug, a kiss to her cheek? How long has it been since someone praised her for her efforts instead of merely paying her? 

He tries to imagine what it would be like to go years without Chewie’s hugs. Without his mother’s. Han rarely hugs him anymore, distance and time apart the biggest contributing factor, but he has other memories of the man holding him from years gone by. And he has no doubt that his father would comply if he were to ask. 

But to go years without one? He can’t even imagine going a week without one of Chewie’s, whether he asked for one or needed one, or his uncle just grabbed him for fun. 

He makes a note to ask Chewie to do the same for Rey. There’s time to make up for, after all.

Ben pulls her against him, letting her rest against his shoulder. It’s no wonder she’s tired. He’s tired, too. Everything aches. Non-stop peril, a Dark-sider after them, and the general flying back and forth isn’t exactly a walk through Naboo. Not to mention the fact that not only does he have to worry about his own ass, but hers too. 

Because there is no way in hell he’s losing her now. 

“Hey, kid.” It’s barely above a whisper as he kisses the top of her head again. Rey hums softly, and he watches as she blinks, gaze sleepy and eyes warm. He smiles a little and rubs at her shoulder. “You wanna go to a bunk, catch some sleep there? I’ll wake you if I need you?” 

Poor thing’s so tired she doesn’t even protest. She just nods, and slips from the lounge to walk to the bunks. He watches her go, arm still braced on the back of the lounge where he’d held her. In a moment he hears the sound of the bunkroom door sliding open, and then it hisses shut again. 

Chewie growls, a quiet sound that Ben barely hears. 

“Of course I like her,” the smuggler admits, looking back over to his uncle who’s looking at him with soft eyes and a tilted head. Ben scoffs, rolling his eyes as he moves to sit properly in the lounge. “Oh, c’mon, you furball. Don’t tell me you don’t like her, either, I know you’re sweet on her. That’s the first time in years you haven’t threatened to pull the table from the floor after losing, so don’t tell me that you don’t like her,” Ben threatens, pointing his finger at his uncle. 

The Wookie roars softly, shrugging before nodding to the bunk. Ben feels his cheeks flame immediately, and he’s sure that the tips of his ears are bright pink, too.

“No, I don’t want to join her!” he exclaims, standing up from the lounge and nearly bumping his thighs on the table. He trips over his own feet in his effort to get out, glaring at the Wookie. “She’s sleeping, Chew, I’m not going to - … I’m going to go organize what we salvaged.”

His storming footsteps clanking on the ship’s floor nearly drown out his uncle’s laughter. 

“Yes, I know you already did it but I’m going to do it again!” 

-

He has to give her credit for her creativity, and her knowledge. It far surpasses his own in terms of ship parts, the cargo hold full of bits and bobs and pieces that he would've tossed out long ago. He has no idea what most of the stuff they’ve gathered is, but Chewie’s done his best to organize it into boxes, and Ben makes his way around the cargo hold, picking up odds and ends and wondering how the kriffing hell she managed to discover what was valuable. 

Ben picks up some box with wires sticking out of it, one of four that she found, and wonders just how many portions it would get her. Not enough, he thinks grimly as he sets it down again in the crate Chewie’d designated as the ‘boxes with wires sticking from them’ box. 

Sure, he likes her, he thinks as he walks to where a few coils of coolant tubing are, but there’s a good amount of respect and admiration with it. Despite all odds, she held herself together and managed to survive on the dustball of a planet she called home for so many years. He’s not entirely sure he’d be able to do it himself. 

He’s not sure he would’ve had the will to try.

“Kriffing hell,” he mutters as he steps over a few more boxes. He’s not sure when the cargo hold was last emptied. He knows there are still a few deliveries he has to make, the boxes labeled with the respective destinations and contents. But there are panels and cabinets and lockers he can’t remember opening, ever, and he wonders if his dad ever opened them, either. Who knows what’s in those lockers? Hopefully not something too disgusting or dangerous, but with Han, he’s never entirely sure. 

Well, he thinks. He has time to kill. As long as he doesn’t kill himself, first.

The first locker he opens has an old blaster, the bolts not even produced anymore, though he bets that he can find some on a backwater planet somewhere. Still, it’s not worth the effort, and it’ll be worth nothing to the Resistance without the ammunition. So he tosses it into one of the somewhat-empty crate of their loot to sell, the weapon landing in the crate with a soft ‘thud’ and thankfully no blast. 

"That probably wasn't my smartest idea," he mutters, staring at the blaster and trying to calm his nervous heart as he realizes that wow, all right, that could've been loaded.

The second locker he opens has some ration bars. Good for emergencies, or a snack in a pinch, so he sets those aside. He finds water canteens in the back. More rations, long past their due date. “Stars, Dad,” Ben mutters as he pulls out another blaster, once again old and more trouble than anything else.

There’s a bunch of useless junk in a lot of the lockers, and by the time he’s getting even a quarter of the way through them, he has a box full of junk for Rey to go through and maybe find value in. 

“Water, again,” he mutters as he reaches back and grabs another canteen that probably should be thrown out, no doubt rusted beyond belief on the inside. He sighs as he reaches in again, hand brushing against something soft. 

His first instinct is to recoil immediately, the object giving beneath his touch and furry besides. _What the hell is that?!_

“Gah!” He steps backwards and nearly trips over the box he’s been putting the junk in, stumbling over his own two feet before managing to right himself. He watches the locker for any sign of life, half expecting something to fly out and bite him, but it remains still. 

Well, whatever it is, it’s probably long dead. The smuggler grimaces a bit as he walks forward again and wraps his hand around the thing, whatever the hell it is. 

There’s no skeletal structure, at least not that he can feel. There’s no hardness at all to it, and Ben frowns as he pulls it out into the light, and finds himself staring at a stuffed tauntaun. 

It’s a bit worse for wear, obviously well-loved with a few patches of the fabric worn down to threads. The color’s faded, its horns crooked and one looking to be the victim of a little mouth, but as he stares at it, he can’t remember holding it. 

Well, not as a kid, anyway. 

_You’ll take him with you, right? Make sure he sees the stars? Like you promised? You said you'd take him to Naboo, remember?_

It’s a voice he doesn’t recognize, a voice he can’t quite put a name to. A boy’s, young and sweet. 

_You bet, kid. He’ll be back before you know it, and he’ll tell you all about it, okay?_

Ben frowns, staring into the painted eyes of the stuffed beast, the color worn away after years of love. He never loved it, he’d remember it, he’s sure. He may be getting older, sure, as everyone does, but his memory isn’t going quite yet. 

But someone else loved it. Someone he knew enough to take the toy with him, to promise to give it back. Someone he saw often. 

The voice in his head is clear, but for the life of him he can’t put it to a face. After a few moments of trying to remember, his brow furrowed and hand still clutching the toy, he gives up. The effort is making his brain hurt. 

“Chew-“ he starts to call as he looks towards the door, but then he stops, looking back down at the toy again. He can hear his uncle’s footsteps as he makes his way towards the cargo hold, and something tugs him, something deep in his chest. It tugs his hand back towards the locker, and he stuffs the toy back inside just before the Wookie rounds the corner and growls in question. 

“Nothing,” Ben says hurriedly, looking back towards his uncle who tilts his head in confusion. “Just cleaning stuff out, wanted to know if any of this meant anything to you?” he asks, pushing the box of junk towards Chewie with his foot. 

The Wookie roars ‘no’, and Ben laughs as his uncle shakes his head viciously.

“Yeah, I know, just a bunch of junk,” he agrees as he closes the locker holding the toy, taking a quick glance to remember which one it is. 

He’ll ask about it later, he thinks. If he gets the chance.

-

The hologram is better now. Maybe it’s because she’s not so far away, or maybe it’s because she’s not moving through space like she had before. 

There’s no general with him this time. No one to question his motives, his priorities or his decisions. For that he’s grateful, and more than a little relieved. He can only take so much of the general before he has to turn and lock himself somewhere where the order-obsessed man can’t find him. 

“Is it as it was?”

“It feels drier, if that’s possible.” 

“Where are you?” He can hear the noise around her, the sound of cheerful, lively music coming from somewhere. He remembers it, remembers going and spending hours listening to the pipes and strings that sounded way too cheerful and upbeat for a planet that’s a giant ball of sand. 

“Above one of the cantinas. I rented a room, I’ll stay here until they land. Something tells me he’ll want to return to more than just the temple.” 

“No one recognized you?” 

She replies with a shake of her head, and he’s not entirely sure whether to be disappointed, or relieved. Then again, they didn’t spend much time in Mos Eisley, at least not when Ben wasn’t on planet. Then they spent a lot of time in the cantinas, weaving through crowds of shady figures and tobacco smoke. He remembers Ben’s hand around his, calloused from piloting and fixing the Falcon, the taste of a stolen sip of ale on his tongue, and the haze of smoke across his eyes as they made their way into the cantinas.

He remembers the young smuggler’s laughter, and the smell of Han’s jacket as the older man draped it around his shoulders. He remembers the feeling of Chewie’s fur against his cheek, the Wookie’s arms so tight around him he was nearly suffocating, laughter bubbling from his lips. Krif, even if he just remembered laughing, it would be enough for him. 

“What are you thinking?” 

His gaze snaps back to the hologram, and he can see the furrow of her brow, the worry in her eyes as she watches him. She knows damn well what he was thinking, but she says nothing as he sighs and runs his hand through his hair, watching her.

“I’m thinking that we don’t have much time,” he admits. “The Resistance already has Skywalker’s location. It won’t belong before he’s coming back from wherever he went, and starting to put his plan in motion.” 

“So we get Ben as soon as possible. He is our priority right now, since you failed to bring him from Coruscant.” 

“Ana-“ he starts, her name a warning.

“We would have gotten him sooner if you hadn’t insisted upon getting him ourselves.” 

“A bounty hunter can be easily manipulated and swayed with the right amount of credits, and most have a nasty habit of hurting their marks,” he insists. “Sorry that I wanted to make sure he was brought to us unharmed while getting Hux off my back about costs.” 

“Hypocritical, coming from a man whose pride and joy is one of the most expensive endeavors in the galaxy.” 

He snorts, shaking his head as the music in the cantina below her swells. It must be late, there, the nightlife starting. “He’s been useful. Don’t judge him too harshly.” He offers her what he can of a smile, a sort of half-thing, the side of his mouth barely quirked up. “Take care of yourself if you decide to go out.” 

“You act like I can’t handle myself.” Her smirk is taunting as she shifts, obviously eager to get up and join in the heavy drinking and dancing down below.

He shakes his head, taking his concerns from where they rested behind his teeth and shoving them back down his throat so as not to keep his sister longer than he needs to. “Go. Keep your eyes and ears open. I can’t get to you quickly, but I can get to you if you get into trouble.”

“You worry too much,” she says before the connection is cut, and he’s left staring at the empty air in front of him. 

He knows he worries too much – he knows that damn well. But how could that be bad if it’s kept them alive so far? 

-

“You didn’t sleep long.”

He hears her footsteps first, and looks up from where he’s stroking the worn and well-loved horn of the tauntaun. Ben watches as Rey walks into the cockpit. She couldn’t have slept more than one or two hours, though her cheek bears the wrinkles of the pillow she’d rested upon. 

“How long was I out?” she asks, rubbing her eyes as she settles into the co-pilot’s seat. 

“I don’t know, I didn’t time you,” Ben teases a little as she looks to him, her eyes finding the toy in his lap. He holds it up, showing her the stuffed tauntaun. “It was in the cargo hold, in one of the lockers. I don’t think it was mine, I’m trying to figure out where it came from.” 

“What is it?” Rey asks, leaning forward and taking it from him when he offers it to her. He watches as she strokes the top of the tauntaun’s head, the fabric worn there from being tucked under a little chin constantly, or rubbed against a little cheek. 

“A stuffed tauntaun,” Ben explains, voice soft as he watches her hold it. “I can’t remember a damn thing.”

She’s silent for a moment, thumb rubbing across the worn fabric. “It wasn’t yours?” 

“If it was, I don’t remember it at all,” he admits. “Best I can remember is someone asking me to take it with me, and then there’s remembering my dad going on and on about how he saved my uncle by stuffing him into a dead tauntaun. But considering he tells that story to anyone who’ll listen, that doesn’t tell me much.”

Her thumb stills on the head of the toy, and she looks at him in shock and some disgust. “What?” she asks, understandably confused.

Ben waves his hand, shrugging. “He tells it better than I do. Mine’s more accurate, since I asked Uncle Luke about it, too, but Dad’s good at exaggerating. Ask him next time we see him.” 

With that, she smiles a bit, looking back down to the toy in her lap. “Your family is close, aren't they?” 

There’s an almost wistful quality to her voice, and he continues watching her as she hugs the toy close, as if it was hers. It wasn’t, he knows that for sure, but it’s precious to see her hold it. His heart gives a kick as he wonders if she ever had toys aside from the doll she made. If, before Jakku, she had a room full of toys. Stuffed ones, shining ones, little figures to chew on. Someone must’ve cared for her before the sun and the sand. Someone must have held her once. 

“If you want them, you can have them,” he teases, referring to his family. “They’re a handful of nerfherders most of the time, and they fight a lot - Mom and Dad especially, but they’ll love you. That I can promise.” 

She’s silent for a moment, and he wonders if it was the wrong thing to say before she’s setting the toy aside on the co-pilot’s chair and walking over. He’s given no notice before she’s bending and brushing her lips against his, and he hums against her mouth as he reaches up to cup her cheek and hold her gently. This … he likes this. He likes the sweetness of it. It’s a far cry from the nights he spent in Coruscant with men, women, and other alike. A galaxy away from the hookups he had on backwater planets, where he’d be left bruised and sore from hands rougher than his own and mouths harder than he’d honestly wanted them. 

“I like doing this,” she mutters against his mouth, and Ben grins. 

“What, kissing me?” he asks, and she hums. 

“Yeah.”

His grin broadens. “Tell me something. Was I your first?” 

“No,” she admits, and he raises his eyebrow at her as her smile dims. “I didn’t want my first.” 

_Ouch._ Well, he can’t say he’s surprised. From what he’d seen of Jakku, kindness was as rare as flora. His hand finds her hip, and he looks up at her, frowning. 

“Did they try anything else?” he asks, voice stern as he presses his thumb to her hipbone beneath her trousers, rubbing gently and reassuringly. “Did they try to force you to do anything else?” 

The little hiccup of relief his heart gives when she shakes her head is one of the best things he’s felt in a long time, and he sighs as he nods. “All right, good,” he mutters. “Otherwise we’d be heading right back to the base to get you tested.” He looks up at her and smirks. “At least tell me you broke his nose or something?” 

“Or something,” she replies, smiling so wide he can see her dimples and how her eyes crinkle, and _stars_ , he loves it when she smiles like that. 

“Good girl,” he mutters, a surge of pride filling him. Of course he knows she can handle herself. He’s seen her do it more than a few times. And not only is he proud, but he’s impressed. For a young woman whose entire life has just been flipped upside down in a matter of days, she’s holding her own pretty damn well. 

He stops, thinking. 

That’s right. Her entire life … has just changed, and somehow she’s still sane. Despite being taken away from the only home she’s known, thrust into some mission to find the last Jedi, discovering she’s Force-sensitive and a bunch of other bantha shit he can’t even comprehend. Not to mention whatever this is, the kissing and holding and the like. 

It’s been a trip for him, sure, but he can’t even imagine what she’s dealing with. 

“Are you okay?” he blurts, suddenly, and she blinks at him in confusion before frowning. 

“Yes?” she offers. 

“No, not like … not health or anything,” he clarifies before he realizes that he really didn’t clarify anything. “I mean, everything has changed for you. You’re off Jakku, you’re helping the Resistance find my uncle, you’re kissing me, I just … are you okay?” he asks again, more insistently.  
It’s the silence that scares him as she looks down at him, and then it’s her quiet, “yes?” that gets him. Kriffing hell, it’s like she’s asking it, it’s a question. Yes? Maybe? She doesn’t think know? 

“Okay, well, c’mere,” he mutters, standing and leaning against the side of the captain’s chair. He pulls her closer so that she’s standing between his legs, and he holds her upper arms, looking down into her eyes. “It’s okay. It’s okay that you’re not okay. I don’t know if I’m okay, anymore,” he admits, and she’s staring up at him like he’s the sun and damn, he realizes he has no idea what to say to her at all. 

“So just … let me know if there’s anything I can do to make it more okay, okay?” he asks, and he’s saying ‘okay’ way too many times, but she’s smiling now, so he can’t have messed up too badly if she’s smiling. “That sound good, kid?” 

“Are you normally like this around women? Is that why you have that scar on your chest?” she teases. 

“Only pretty ones,” Ben replies with a wink, and he laughs as instead of the blushing cheeks and fluttering lashes he’s used to, he gets a sock in the shoulder. “Hey, c’mon, now, don’t tell me you didn’t see that one coming.”

She scoffs, but he can see the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, and counts it as a victory as he settles into the captain’s chair once again. 

Two more days. Two more days to Tatooine. 

Is it wrong that he wishes it took longer?

-

“Why do I think we’re going the wrong way?” Poe asks, looking towards the navigation and frowning as Han completely and utterly ignores it. 

“Because we are,” the smuggler growls.

“We’re not heading to Takodana?” Finn calls from somewhere back in the lounge, and Poe turns to see him walking towards the cockpit of the small freighter.

“We’re talking to someone first, kid.”

“We’re supposed to be talking to Maz,” Finn insists. “The General said-“

“What Leia doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Han mumbles. “It’s a good someone, I swear.” 

“No offense, Solo, but there aren’t many good ‘someones’ anymore,” the ex-Stormtrooper mutters back, leaning on the back of the pilot’s seat. Poe can’t say he’s surprised when Han jerks the seat to get him off, and he hides a smile as Finn stares at the smuggler with wide eyes. Han raises a grey eyebrow at the renegade. 

“Did you just call me _‘Solo’?”_ he snaps.

“Mr. Solo, we should follow the General’s orders,” Finn says immediately to cover his blunder, and Poe tries his damndest not to crack up right then and there.

“I’m with him,” the pilot offers. 

“Don’t worry, hot-shot, my wife’s still going to like you if we make a pit stop real quick,” Han insists, reaching forward to plan a different course, one Poe doesn’t recognize. 

He frowns, leaning down to observe. “Tatooine? Isn't that where-“

“It’s where we’re going to meet an old contact of mine,” Han insists. “If we meet up with Ben, Rey, and Chewie, then it’ll be coincidence only. Yu’s there for a little longer, I’m hoping he’ll recognize the map, or what part of it we have.”

“A bounty hunter is going to recognize the map to what may be the first Jedi temple,” Poe says, voice flat in disbelief. 

“Bounty hunter and relic collector. Think Maz on a grander, more expensive scale,” Han explains.

“Still doesn’t explain why he’d have it.” 

“The man has almost anything, and I'm willing to bet he'll know where to get a map this piece can match. Maz is great and all, but what's she gonna do, draw the rest of it from memory? Trust me, the man's got everything." 

“How about rathtars?” Finn asks, tone just as deadpan as Poe’s had been.

Han looks back at him, and for half a second Poe thinks he might crack a smile. He does, after a heartbeat. It’s a wry thing, and the smuggler looks back at the pilot, jerking a thumb towards Finn. 

“Not bad for a Stormtrooper,” the older man declares. 

The stunned look on Finn’s face is too much, and the pilot laughs as the course is set. The freighter jumps into hyperspace towards the planet he’s heard so much about but never actually visited. 

-

“It looks like Jakku.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that, sweetheart,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair as the planet comes into view, the Falcon coming out of hyperspace to approach the port. “I promise we’ll go somewhere green after this. I hope.” 

“You hope we’ll go somewhere green, or you promise we’ll go somewhere green?” Rey asks, leaning over the back of his seat. He can feel her breath ruffle his hair, can feel her elbows on either side of his head as she watches the dirt-colored planet get larger and larger as they get closer. 

“I hope that I can promise it,” Ben admits as he reaches forward to slow the ship down a bit more, trying to locate Mos Eisley. “This isn’t exactly the best place, either, but at least there’s no Plutt, and there’s decent ale on this one.” 

Rey says nothing as they continue on their way towards the port. Ben pulls down towards the planet, and as soon as he sees the sand-worn buildings, his heart does a funny lurch that hurts more than he thought it would. Chewie’s sad roar, something along the lines of it having been a while since they pulled into this port, makes it ache even more as he reaches forward to open the transmissions for identification. 

“Yeah,” he mutters as soon as they’re given the all-clear. “It has, hasn’t it?” 

He can feel Rey’s gaze on him, but is grateful she doesn’t say anything as they pull into the designated spaceport. Dust plumes around the ship, and half of him is tempted to mention something about home and memories before he looks to Rey and decides the better of it. 

“You see any troopers?” Ben asks, instead, looking out above the brown, cream, and bleached-bone colored port in search of stark white and deep black. 

“Not so far,” Rey mutters, leaning forward on the console. Chewie says the same, and the smuggler’s heart gives a different kind of lurch as he stands. 

“Let’s hope it stays that way. C’mon,” he mumbles. “Leave the deliveries, and the loot. We’ll find someplace to sell it, but not here. The vendors always try to swindle you out here. I learned that lesson a long time ago.”

His uncle’s chuckle echoes along the corridor, and Ben turns to glower at the Wookie. “Yes, I know, I paid more than triple the price for that necklace, but I was nine!” he insists, grabbing his two blasters and shoving them in his belt before grabbing another for Rey. He checks the ammunition before thrusting it towards her. “Here.” 

“Lightsaber?” she asks, frowning and touching the weapon at her hip. 

“That’s not exactly something you want to be swinging around here,” he mutters, stepping forward and perhaps getting a bit too close as he unlatches it from her belt. He can feel her breath against the skin the open collar of his shirt doesn’t cover, but doesn’t make to move away as he opens the right side of her jacket and hooks it to a leather loop inside. It’s for a canteen, sure, but whatever works, right? “I don’t want you using that unless you absolutely have to.” 

“Because they don’t like it here?” the scavenger asks. 

“Because you nearly chopped your own leg off not two hours ago,” Ben snarks, smirking as he hands her the blaster. “Now this, I know you can handle.” 

Her glare is withering, but he pays no mind to it as he grabs two canteens and hangs them over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart, most kids aren’t handed a real lightsaber until they can handle a training one,” he calls over his shoulder as he presses the latch for the ramp. “And that’s definitely not a training saber.” 

“Do you want it to be your leg instead?” she snaps, and he turns to see her glaring at him still as he waits for the walk to be lowered to the dusty ground. Despite her annoyance, he grins, and bends to brush a chaste kiss against her cheek. 

“I’d take my leg over yours any day,” he admits, and then he wants to kick himself for being so kriffing sappy as he straightens. “Now let’s go, we still have to rent a speeder and get out to the academy, and Maker knows how many credits it’s going to take to get a decent one.”

-

He knows they’ve landed before the lieutenant even tells him. There’s something about his sister’s end of the bond. A spark of elation, of hope that he hasn’t felt in years – on his side, or on hers.

_Ben._

“Commander, reports are coming in about the Millennium Falcon-“

“Tatooine,” the Dark sider states, his voice tinny and crackling through his mask. “Solo’s on Tatooine.”


	22. Tatooine.

He’s never really liked Mos Eisley. He’s all for grimy cantinas and criminal activity, because criminal activity means a ton of credits and even the dirtiest cantinas still sell whiskey, even though the glass may not be entirely clean. But there’s something about Mos Eisley that puts him on edge, and always has, which is why he spent most of his time at the academy. 

He can’t say what it is, exactly. Maybe it’s the heat that makes him irritable, his patience for the swindlers on the streets dwindling with each drop of sweat that drips down his neck. Maybe it’s the constant dust that rises with every footstep, the brightness of the bone-white buildings in his eyes. Maybe it’s his uncle’s low growling that it’s too hot, like he has every time they visited the port. 

Or maybe it’s the fact that he never wanted to come here again.

“Is it like you remember it?” Rey asks, her voice cutting through his thoughts. She had to raise it over the hustle and bustle of the streets, the sounds of landspeeders and sellers shouting the prices of their wares.

“You mean dirty, dusty, and swarming with criminals?” Ben asks wryly, looking to the brunette out of the corner of his eye as they make their way through the streets, in hunt of a speeder. “… yeah, pretty much.” 

“So you fit right in, then,” she teases, and he turns to see her smirking at him, obviously proud of herself for her little quip. He wonders if he’s rubbing off on her too much. 

“Watch your mouth, kid, don’t forget I’m your ride off this planet,” Ben teases back, grinning. 

It really is just how he remembers it. Sure, there may be a few more swindlers than he remembers there being, and their faces are different, their prices higher. He’s not used to having a pretty girl with him, either, so there’s more attention on them than there was the last time he was here all those years ago. It’s not exactly positive attention, but Rey’s damn good at glaring at whoever calls at her, and for those who keep yelling, a subtle shift of his jacket to reveal his blaster is enough to dissuade them from pursuing further. 

The landspeeder they manage to get is an old clunk of a thing, but then again the ship they’ve been flying across the galaxy in is an old clunk of a thing, too, so he knows he can’t judge too harshly. Besides, between him and Rey, if something goes horribly wrong he’s willing to bet they can rig something. 

“Not too terrible,” Ben insists as he stands next to it, touching the side only to be startled by a loud ka-chunk somewhere beneath the hood panel. Rey looks at him skeptically. “… at least it’s still off the ground?” he offers with a shrug.

“It’s worth more for its parts than it is now,” Rey says simply, and he knows she’s right. 

“It’s what we’ve got, sweetheart, now get in,” Ben mutters, removing his blaster from his hip to sit in the console for easy reaching and more comfortable sitting. It’s not the biggest speeder, and he curses under his breath at his long legs as he tries to find a good way to settle into the seat. He hears a soft snicker beside him, and looks over to see Rey grinning, her eyes crinkling as Chewie roars with laughter.

“Laugh it up, fuzzball,” Ben mumbles fondly as he finally finds a position that hopefully won’t end in cramps. 

He hears another roar that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle, and turns, mock-glaring at his uncle. “All right, you try sitting in this piece of junk without gettin’ a cramp in your thigh,” he snaps as Rey reaches over to prep the speeder for its trek across the desert. “Hoping we’ll be back before sundown. Sunsdown. Whatever they call it here.”

This time, instead of being laughed at, he gets a hug. A tight hug, with fur against his face and his uncle’s soft growling in his ear, telling him to be careful, to come back safe. 

“I will,” Ben promises, reaching up to clap him on the shoulder. “We’ll be back. Com if something goes wrong, we’ll come back as soon as possible. You know where the credits are if you get hungry.”

Another roar. 

“Yeah, all right,” the smuggler says with a laugh, “I love you too, you sap, now get off before you give both of us heat stroke.”

The landspeeder shudders at the idea of actually going somewhere, but with a smack of Rey’s fist on her side, it sputters and starts off away from the spaceport, Chewie roaring a goodbye and good luck. 

Ben hopes it works. They need all the luck they can get if they’re going to go through the rubble of the academy and the temple.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he mutters, his hand running through his hair in a vain attempt to get it out of his face. 

“About the speeder?” Rey asks, and he notices she has her hand to her brow in an attempt to shield her eyes from the suns.

“About all of this. About going back there. Something doesn’t feel right,” Ben admits as he heads towards some of the cream-colored buildings in the distance, recognizing the configuration as a moisture farm. One of Luke’s acquaintances, an old friend who took after his parents. He’s never met the man. He wonders what he thought of Luke becoming a Jedi. 

“What are those?” 

“Moisture farms,” Ben replies, looking off to the right as they pass to see a few people checking equipment, their forms warped from the heatwaves but there all the same. 

“There’s more life here than on Jakku,” Rey observes as they speed along the flat sand, and Ben shrugs, shifting in his seat when he feels his calve begin to clench. 

“There was a lot more when the academy and temple were here,” he explains. “Uncle Luke would pick us up in his speeder. It was a lot nicer than this one, I’ll tell you that. He’d pick me and Chewie up, sometimes Dad was with us, sometimes he wasn’t.” Ben shrugs. “He started his own trades, eventually, and stopped coming to visit.”

“Like buying and selling Rathtars,” Rey says, and he can hear the laughter in her voice. 

“Like buying and selling Rathtars,” Ben admits with a wave of his hand, shaking his head as he buries his hand in his hair again. “Kriffing hell, that man…”

Rey laughs, the sound bright over the whirring of the speeder, and he grins back.

"He may be a crazy old man," he mutters, squinting in the Tatooine suns in an attempt to see where he's going, the sand and dust not helping him at all. "But he's my crazy old man, and he taught me all I know." 

"How to smuggle illegal weapons?" Rey taunts. 

"How to smuggle illegal weapons for cash to give to Mom," Ben clarifies, turning and pointing at her with a raised eyebrow to make his point clear. "There's a distinct difference, kid."

She just laughs again.

He has to rely on landmarks to find the temple and academy, the more specific directions lost to him after so many years. He can’t even remember the coordinates anymore, so he has to keep an eye out for the rock that, to his young eyes and innocent mind, once looked like a giant tauntaun.

He’s pretty sure now it’ll just look like a rock, but at least it offers some identifying feature.

“Keep an eye out for a rock that looks like a tauntaun,” he mutters to Rey. 

“A what?”

“… yeah, right, forget it, bad idea to ask you that.”

They pass it eventually. It no longer looks like a tauntaun to him, but he recognizes it anyway, and bears left to see the hazy form of the temple in the distance. His heart skips a beat as he frowns, seeing the bone-colored buildings.

He recognizes it immediately. The four towers that once held archives and rooms for the older students, the square windows allowing the sunlight to pour through. The academy with its multiple stories, the meditation and training rooms and mess hall and dormitories, as well as drill grounds for when the sun became too much. He can see the pillars that surround the outdoor training grounds, cream lines in the distance. Untouched, and unbroken.

“… something’s not right.”

“What do you mean?” Rey asks, and even though he’s not looking at her, he can practically hear her frown as they get closer.

“I just …” Ben starts, trying to get his racing thoughts into some semblance of a sentence. “Mom said the First Order attacked. You think they used TIEs?”

“Probably,” Rey admits. “Why?”

“It’s intact,” Ben explains as he squints to see through the dirty, scratched windshield. Not a stone out of place, it seems, even as they approach the buildings. Not even a single chip missing. He’d been expecting ruins, the temple collapsed from laser cannon shots. He’d imagined … he’d imagined more destruction, to be honest. “I thought they’d shot the place up. It would’ve fallen to dust, wouldn’t it?”

Now she looks confused as well as he leans down and pushes forward, making the speeder go as fast as it can. Dust and sand plumes up, and his eyes water as he keeps his sights on the buildings he once knew. The buildings he once called his second home, right behind the Falcon.

“The First Order didn’t attack here,” he murmurs as they approach. “They would’ve destroyed it.”

“Then who did?” 

“Hell if I know,” Ben replies as he reaches down to guide the speeder to a stop near the entrance to the academy building. The cream stones reflect the light of the sun a little too well, and he has to squint as he turns to help Rey out. 

It’s exactly as he remembered, and yet everything is so kriffing wrong. It’s too quiet. Before, he would hear the laughter of the children, of his friends, of the students he so loved. He would hear the cries of his name, and Chewie’s name, and sometimes even his father’s as they climbed out of his uncle’s speeder. His eyes instinctively search for the faces of the kids, and his arms are compelled to open, but he just stands near the entrance, looking up the few stairs into the sunlit atrium that once held green plants. The students were in charge of taking care of the temple and the academy, and he remembers watching the little ones water the ferns as part of their training, taking responsibility. But now the plants are dead along with their once-caretakers, crumbled and dry and nearly dust on the sand-covered floor. 

“Ben?” 

Rey’s hand is gentle on his arm, and he looks down to see her calloused, tanned fingers as she slides her palm down his forearm. Her fingers lace with his a moment later, and then he looks to her face. For someone who has no idea what degree of pain his heart’s going through, she pulls off a look of empathy damn well.

“… let’s get out of here as soon as possible,” he says, voice unintentionally gruff as he starts to climb the set of stairs up to the atrium. Dust and sand’s collected on the stone steps after so many years of not being swept, layers upon layers of desert grime swirling with each step of his boots. He grimaces at the obvious neglect, but says nothing as Rey squeezes his hand. 

Halfway up the steps, he realizes he has no idea where to start looking. The temple’s archives? His uncle’s room in the academy? He doesn’t remember Luke having a study anywhere, but then again Ben spent most of his time with the kids. It was hard to escape them to even eat or sleep, actually, with so many of them wanting to show him what they’d learned while he was away. What he wouldn’t give to be tugged in twelve different directions by tiny hands now.

His and Rey’s footsteps echo in the empty atrium, and he half expects to hear some little voice yell his name, another set of smaller, quicker footsteps. But they never come, and he’s left looking towards one of the meditation rooms that’s over to his left. 

Through the archway, he can see mats and cushions for comfort are left to gather dust, turned over and left in a hurry. Someone did attack, but it wasn’t the First Order. They would have left destruction, not disarray. And there’s not a single blaster bolt mark to be seen. Instead, there are black lines. A lightsaber, he guesses. Or lightsabers. His heart both swells and breaks, with pain and with pride at the idea of his kids defending themselves and their friends.

“Let’s check Uncle’s room,” he growls as he heads towards the stairs that lead to the upper floors. Rey follows him wordlessly, no doubt taking in the empty, sad space surrounding her as she goes. Taking in what once was a place of learning and joy now turned into a dusty, abandoned memorial to the young lives lost. 

After being raised in cities and on ships and spending so much time on bases, the silence is far more disturbing than he’d thought it would be. He can only hear the sounds of his and Rey’s footsteps as they climb the stairs to the next floor where more training rooms are. He peeks into a few of them, heart seizing at the emptiness before they move on.

Rey doesn’t say anything. She just holds his hand as they make their way through the empty academy. There’s no blood, and for that he’s grateful. Then again, just because there’s no blood doesn’t mean there wasn’t slaughter, and he closes his eyes as they stand in the archway of a common room he remembers sitting in, playing with the kids, listening to their stories, laughing at the things they found funny whether he was amused or not just to see them grin at being given attention.  
He has to force himself to move away from room, the couches and chairs turned over in the fight against … against whoever thought it within their right to kill children.

“I think Uncle’s room is down here,” he mutters, turning down the hall. Windows cut out of the side of the academy illuminate the way, stripes of sunlight every so often. Once there were torches, warm and inviting, but now he and Rey step between the dark and the light towards the rooms at the end of the hall.

The door doesn’t slide open when they approach, no doubt protected by a code once. But he frowns as he sees that they don’t need it. Instead, there’s been a large cut made, the edges of the hole bubbled and melted. Through it, he can see the rough shape that was cut out on the floor behind the door, pushed in from the outside. 

“A lightsaber?” Rey asks, making the connection before he does, and his frown deepens as he tries to think of why someone would be trying to get in, not out. 

“That doesn’t make sense,” he mutters. “Stormtrooper’s would’ve just shot up the panel and gone from there.”

He steps through, though, bowing his head so he doesn’t whack it on the metal. It’s a small hole, even for Rey, who’s a good bit shorter than him. Someone smaller, then. Someone younger.

Ben stops, his boots clanking on the cut part of the door as he stands and looks around. Where there was disarray before, there is chaos here, and he stares at the bed – or what was once a bed, cut open and searched through as if his uncle would hide something in the mattress.

Ben frowns, crossing to the bed and touching what remains of the sheets. There are burn marks along the fabric. Evidence of lightsabers, as there had been in the hall, and on the door. 

“Whoever attacked used a lightsaber.” Rey’s voice comes from behind him, the charred edge of the sheet crumbling between Ben’s fingertips as he turns to see her touching a wooden chest, the top completely sliced off and ash coating her fingertips. 

“My guess is it was whoever tried to attack us on Coruscant,” Ben offers, brow furrowed. 

“Would Luke know who it is?” 

“Probably. And I’m willing to bet Mom knows, too,” the smuggler replies bitterly, standing and walking through an archway. A quick peek in reveals an office-like space, ransacked like the rest of his uncle’s room. Drawers yanked out, curtains slashed, the sunlight pouring in and across the floor, making the destruction that much more obvious in the brightness.

“We’re not going to find anything,” Ben laments as he steps through what he’s sure was once his uncle’s desk, the wooden thing destroyed and charred with wood bits scattered across the floor. “Whoever was here found what they were looking for.”

“Were there archives?” 

“Yeah,” the smuggler replies, turning to see Rey pushing part of the desk over, finding a drawer that she immediately pulls out and then closes, no doubt empty. “If someone went through all this trouble to find something, though, then chances are they’ve checked there, too.”

“It’s worth a try,” Rey insists, and he wonders where in the hell she gets her hope from. It must come from somewhere. Somewhere brighter than anywhere he has in his head or heart. 

“Yeah, sure,” Ben mutters as he steps back over the desk, reaching a hand down to help the scavenger up before they leave the room and start back downstairs. He lingers as he walks down, remembering standing on this exact side as he watched a little Togruta girl trip and fall in her excitement to watch the older kids spar, only to pick herself right back up and rush past him. 

He tries to remember her name, digging in the back of his mind to try and unearth it, but it’s no use. He ends up blank, and he sighs as he finishes walking down, Rey waiting at the bottom. 

“What else was here?” 

“Training grounds, both indoor and outdoor,” Ben explains. “Rooms for all of the children. Bunkbeds built into the wall, down in the basement so it was cooler. It’s easier to warm them up with extra blankets than to try and cool it down, you know?” he asks as he looks across the atrium, seeing the corridor that led out to the training areas. “They had training droids, and obstacles, things they’d have to move with the Force, you know? Mind tricks. Focusing their energy. Those sorts of things. At least, that’s how Uncle explained it. It’s kind of hard to get it when you don’t have it.”

“I get it,” Rey says simply, and he hums. 

“That’s because you have it, sweetheart,” he mutters, looking down as his feet stir up dust and sand. “And Uncle Luke will help you when we-“

“Did you hear that?” 

Ben stops, looking over at the scavenger as she looks wide-eyed towards a downwards-sloping ramp leading into darkness. He stops, trying to listen, trying to hear anything other than the sound of their own breathing. “No?” he asks, frowning as he watches her take a step forward towards the ramp. “But that’s where we need to go, so I’m hoping it’s not a womprat. Nasty things.” 

“No, it’s-“ Rey starts before she takes off. 

“Kriffing-Rey!” His voice echoes along the bone-white walls of the academy, his heart skipping in his chest as he watches her slight form disappear into the darkness. Where there were once lamps along the walls, now their power source has long been cut. He wishes he had thought to bring a glow lamp or something of that sort as he rushes into the pitch black, cursing all the way. The emptiness of the halls means that Rey’s footsteps echo, and as he looks down into the dark corridor to his right, he can’t see a damn thing. A look to his left is no use, either, and he curses again as he presses his hand against the cool stone wall and tries to feel his way along it. 

“Rey!” he tries again, his voice echoing the way her footsteps had, and his heart sinks before he remembers that, of the two of them, she has both the Force, and the better weapon. 

“Yeah, all right,” he grumbles as he feels his way along the wall. It takes two trips over his own two feet before he stops and leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest as he tries to listen for her footsteps. He only gets silence. “Either I’m going to kill her, or she’s going to kill me.” Despite the annoyance that colors his tone, there’s some fondness in it as well. After all, he thinks, she’s going to realize he’s missing, and come back. 

But what if she has a vision again? What if she breaks down like the way she did before? What if-

“Kriffing hell, this woman,” Ben mutters as he starts to feel along the wall again. “You know, it might be nice to turn on your lightsaber?” he calls, his words becoming a jumbled mess with the echo. “The word ‘light’ is in there for a reason!” 

The sound of footsteps behind him is music to his ears, and he laughs, his eyes closing in exasperation for a heartbeat as he stops and runs his hand through his hair. “You had me scared there, sweetheart. Don’t go running off again like that, I kind of like you,” he says, before he looks up and turns, grin already in place before it falls.

His heart stutters in his chest again, and his hand immediately finds the blaster at his hip. 

“Sweetheart. It’s been years since you called me that, Ben.”

Despite the moderator of the helmet, he can tell that the voice is female. And with light spilling down the ramp, he can make out her silhouette, the wraps up her arms like Rey’s, but much darker, and the vague outline of the slim helmet.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, sweetheart,” Ben tries, relying on the darkness as his ally in pulling his blaster out subtly. “I’ve called a lot of people ‘sweetheart’. You’re not special.” 

He may not have the Force, but he still has good aim. And so he shoots right towards their head, expecting a straight shot, expecting for that mask to explode and for sparks to fly. 

He guesses he shouldn’t be surprised when it stops right in front of her face, hovering in mid-air and humming with energy as he stares at the bolt currently lighting up the corridor. Now he can see her more clearly, he can see arm bands like Rey’s, dark black strips wrapped up her arms, not quite covering lightly tanned shoulders. 

“What is it with you two and masks and stopping my bolts?” he demands as she steps out of the way just for it to fly down the corridor and hit the other end in a shatter of sparks. He tries another, only for her to stop that one, too, and step around it. A third gets the same result, and his heartbeat is loud in his ears as he tries a forth, only to find his finger won’t move on the trigger. 

Actually, his finger won’t move at all. Neither will either of his feet, or his arm, or anything. Panic fills his chest, and despite not being able to move, he finds he can still breathe. Short, rapid, scared breaths, but at least they’re breaths. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, Ben,” the Dark sider says, and her voice almost sounds earnest behind the moderator. 

And he almost recognizes it. Almost. 

He wants to open his mouth, his quip already on his tongue and catching behind his teeth when he hears a blaster bolt from in front, seeing bright blue light and hearing the hum of a stopped bolt. The redirected energy means that he’s released, and he takes the opportunity to shoot. With the Dark sider distracted by Rey’s bolt, she doesn’t notice his until it’s grazing her side. It’s not his best aim, no, but at least it hits her and not Rey, he decides as he hears her cry out through the moderator. It’s a strange, almost haunting sound as her hand flies to her side. 

“Rey, run!” His voice echoes through the corridor as she takes advantage of the distraction and rushes by the Dark sider, Ben reaching out and grabbing Rey’s wrist. He tugs her along through the tunnel that he remembers opens up to the outdoor training grounds. Behind him, he can hear the sound of a lightsaber igniting, and considering Rey’s is in her hand and not on, it has to be-

“Sithspit,” he groans as they get to the ramp. It’s covered in sand, blocking their way out. They could climb it, or try to dig their way out, he thinks, but they don’t have time. “C’mere.” 

He lets go of her wrist, using his hands to dig out some of the sand, just enough to make a small dent. It’s not nearly enough for the two of them, even when Rey figures out what he’s doing and starts to help, but it’s convincing enough. He dusts his hands off on his pants before he’s grabbing Rey’s hand and tugging her into the nearest bedroom. He knows the layout from memory, each bedroom the same, and turns directly to the wardrobe built into the wall. “In,” he whispers, yanking it open as quietly as he can. He can hear the heeled footsteps of the Dark sider user as she gets closer, and the hum of a lightsaber. He can see the cast of red light across the floor just as he pulls the door closed, the sliver of a crack and the red light through it illuminating what once was the bedroom of what looks like two children. 

Rey is hardly breathing beside him, her hand holding his tightly as they wait. He tries to even his breath as best as he can as he sees the shadow of the woman step inside, and stop. 

He watches through the crack, his heartbeat seemingly much too loud for such a small wardrobe as Rey’s hand tries to break his fingers. He says nothing, though, squeezing hers just as hard as he holds tight to her hip, trying not to focus on the way she’s pressed flush up against him when there’s a potential Sith on the other side of the door. 

There’s only the hum of the woman’s saber in the silence, the hilt much longer than he’s used to seeing. Ben frowns as she lingers, but doesn’t actively look for anything. Instead, he watches through the crack as she walks to one of the beds, her bare fingers reaching out to touch the worn blanket. He remembers these rooms, the cozy little bunks and shelves that held figures and toys. He remembers seeing robes haphazardly cast aside on the floor, training sabers and rods against walls, toys from home planets lovingly placed on beds. 

And it seems she does, as well. 

In the dim light of her red lightsaber, he can see a tauntaun on the bed. A stuffed one, a little crudely shaped just like the one in the storage lockers, but obviously well loved, with one of the sides missing more fur than the other. Her fingers brush across the toy before she picks it up, and his heart skips in his chest as she holds it, her head lowered, no doubt so that she can see the toy through the slit in her helmet.

_It’s okay, I can just play with An's until you bring him back!_

It’s the same voice from before, the little boy’s, so cheerful and happy and excited. Some memory deep down. He tries to find a name with it, tries to conjure a face, an age, anything, but he comes up blank, and he’s left staring at the figure of the Dark sider through the crack before she turns and leaves, the sound of her running through the corridor echoing along the stone walls. 

He tries to push the door open, the air hot and filled with the smell of dust and sweat and Rey, but she squeezes his hand tight enough that it’s painful, a hiss leaving between his teeth before the heeled footsteps fade away, and they’re left in the darkness, the red light having left with the woman. 

“… well, that was an adventure we didn’t need,” Ben whispers as Rey lets go of his hand and pushes the door open. 

“How do we get out without her noticing?” she demands, and he looks to the fake escape route they dug. 

“That leads to the outdoor training grounds,” he mutters, walking out of the bedroom to see the sunlight spilling across the floor, thin and weak beams of it. “I doubt we’ll find anything in the archives, if whoever was here went through Uncle’s room that thoroughly. We should just head back, send a message to Mom and Poe, tell them that we’ll just find Uncle Luke another way. I need some whiskey, or something strong, and then we’ll-“

“Ben.” 

The smuggler stops and turns, his gaze slipping down to the hand outstretched in front of him. Rey’s hand, holding some sort of handmade doll. He blinks, his breath hitching as he sees that it’s a human-like doll, modeled after someone familiar. Dark hair, a white shirt, a black vest. Brown pants, brown boots. There’s no face, but he can tell immediately who it is, and his heart clenches painfully in his chest as he reaches out to take the doll that’s obviously supposed to be him.   
It doesn’t look as well-loved as the tauntaun, but that means nothing. Maybe the kid took care of it really well. Maybe they didn’t play with it all that often. Maybe … maybe they didn’t even get the chance to play with it. 

“I heard a boy crying your name,” Rey offers. “In this room.” 

“My name?” Ben asks, looking up to see that there are tear-tracks on her cheeks. “What did you see?” 

“Nothing,” she replies, shaking her head. “I just heard it, and found that.” 

He stares at her for a moment before he looks back down at the doll in his hands, turning it over and seeing that it even has its own blaster, something made out of what looks like sticks, no doubt from one of the plants that the children took care of. Black ink or paint details pockets, a comlink on his left hip, where he always has it.

“… we’d better get out of here before we run into her again,” he mutters. “Or her partner, whoever he is. Whoever they are.” 

-

“He got away.”

She’s breathless as she looks out across the training grounds, the cloud of dust their speeder left settling in the distance. 

There’s silence on the other end of the comlink, and she closes her eyes against the dust and sand, her helmet braced against her hip. 

“You’re hurt.” 

“You felt that, huh?” she asks, her laugh weak as she starts to retreat back into the temple, eager for cool shade. 

“A little too well.”

“He’s an even better shot now than he was then,” she breathes as she walks back along the training grounds they used to spend hours in, over and back and over and back until they defeated every training droid and bypassed every obstacle. “Hard to believe, but he is.”

“We learned from the best, then,” her brother replies. “You have bacta?” 

“Did you really just ask me that?” she snarks, only to get silence on the other end before she sighs. “Not with me. In Mos Eisley, yes.” 

“Take care of yourself, first, and then we’ll get him. He can’t run too far.” 

“You mean like Skywalker did?” 

“We’ll deal with Skywalker after we make sure Ben is safe. You know this.” 

“I know,” she insists, kicking the head of an old training droid out of her way, the dust and sand that had piled on top of it puffing up and clinging to the black of her boots as she walks through it. The tauntaun remains tucked against her side, the old felt still soft even after so many years. “I know.”

"Be safe, Ana."

"I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you all were waiting for the Cantina, don't worry, I'll include it next chapter, I promise! :) We have a name now, so that's a clue, I hope?   
> Thank you for hanging in while I wrote and rewrote this chapter more than 10 times! You're all incredible!


	23. Tatooine.

Why the kid chose to establish the new Jedi Academy on Tatooine over literally any other planet in the galaxy has always been a mystery to him. Sure, he can think of a few planets that an academy wouldn’t thrive on; Jakku being one of them, Ord Mantell being another. Endor – Endor would be good. Bespin was a good possibility. But Tatooine? 

Maybe Luke wanted to be on of the planet that was his home before they were swept up in all that happened. Maybe he wanted to be close to where Ben Kenobi lived for so many years, maybe he wanted to be close to the start of Vader’s story, who kriffing knows. All Han knows is that it’s arid, and dusty, and yeah, all right, Jakku’s colder than Tatooine and a bit sandier but still. Tatooine’s no pleasure planet, and he gets no pleasure in setting their course for the dustball.

“Should be there in an hour or so,” he mutters, reaching up to flip switches and press some of the buttons, locking in their path through the stars. “Won’t be too long.”

“Never been to Tatooine,” Poe says, and Han looks behind him to see the pilot leaning on the back of one of the passenger chairs, Finn sitting in said chair as he watches the stars fly by.

“You’re not missing much,” Han replies flatly as he turns in the pilot’s seat to face the two other men. “Leia never liked it much, either. Hey, hotshot, go see what kind of weapons we have. Never know who we’ll run into in Mos Eisley.”

He watches as Finn looks to Poe, obviously expecting the pilot to leave, but he looks genuinely surprised when Poe looks down at him instead. “Who, me?” he asks, looking back to Han.

“You’re the hero of the Resistance, the defector of the First Order, savior of Poe Dameron. Think you can handle seeing if we have blasters?” Han says, making sure his voice is as flat as possible. He hears Poe snort in laughter. 

“Oh, uh, sure thing, Solo.”

“Don’t call me that,” Han reminds him, and he wonders when exactly he became a grumpy old man as he watches the ex-Stormtrooper walk away towards the cargo hold of the small freighter.

Probably around the time he gave the Falcon and his co-pilot to Ben, now that he thinks about it. Not that he regrets it, not one bit. But he does miss the good old days.

Before everything went to bantha shit and his best friend disappeared off the face of, well, every planet.

“Tell me we’re not going to the temple.”

Han looks up at the pilot, watching as Poe sits in the seat Finn once occupied, the younger man leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Han sighs, reaching up to scrub at his face. “No, we’re not going to the temple. Don’t see why Yu would be there. Figure after what happened, people would avoid it.”

Poe nods, gaze shifting towards the stars. No, they’re not going to the temple. If Han can help it, he never wants to see the rising tower of bone-white clay ever again.

“Did Leia tell you Ben had a run-in with Jaden?” Poe asks, so quietly and mumbled that Han barely catches it. But he knows for certain he heard Ben, run-in, and Jaden, and those three words are enough to make his blood run cold.

“What? When? Where?” Han demands, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Finn opening a few cabinets and lockers, slamming them shut again once they prove to be empty. Good. Keep him occupied, he doesn’t need to hear this.

“Figured she didn’t,” Poe mutters, shaking his head. “Coruscant. Jaden somehow found them after we left, but Ben got away. We need to tell him, Han.” The last part is said with such conviction Han blinks, smacked in the face with Leia – not for the first time in the pilot’s presence, either. Kriffing hell, the kid reminds him of his wife. He has that same fire, that same stubborn determination – even if he is more reckless than Leia will ever be, these days. Han can see it in the pilot’s eyes as the man stares him down. 

“He needs to know.” Poe insists. “I’ve tried to tell the General, but-“

“But Luke gave her orders, I know,” the smuggler growls.

“He needs to know, Han.”

“You think I haven’t tried to tell Leia that? She’s going what with Luke told her to do, and that’s keep him in the dark.”

“Jaden’s going to keep trying to find him, you know that, Ben needs to know why he’s-“

“Needs to know what?” Finn questions, and Han looks to see him standing in the middle of the archway towards the small sitting area. 

“Nothing you need to worry about, kid,” Han says as he stands. “If you don’t know about it, you don’t need to know about it.”

That’s right, kid probably has no idea what they’re talking about, none at all. He’s heard of Luke Skywalker, sure, but then again everyone has. Everyone’s heard of the great Jedi legend. But they don’t know what happened after.

“Finn deserves to know, too.” 

“Why does he need to know?” Han asks, gesturing to the ex-Stormtrooper with a hand, looking to Poe with one brow raised. “I know for a fact Leia wouldn’t like him knowing-“

“The General won’t like us going to Tatooine, either,” Poe retorts, leaning forward a bit on the seat, glancing to the course console pointedly before looking back at the old smuggler.

“… she taught you that, didn’t she? How to negotiate? She always was better at it,” Han mutters. His gaze shifts to Finn, who’s still standing in the doorway, looking more confused than Han’s ever seen him. “All right, fine, you win, flyboy. You ever hear of the First Order attacking a Jedi training temple here, on Tatooine? About, what, six years ago now?” he asks, looking to Poe who nods in agreement.

“Training temple?” Finn questions, brow furrowing as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants, that and the shirt he’s wearing the only pieces left from his armor, from his past life. No sense in wasting perfectly good clothes, Han guesses, as he watches the soldier lean against the doorway. “No, don’t think so.”

“Exactly,” Han says, moving back to sit in the pilot’s chair again, sighing as he leans on his knees, eyes down towards the durasteel floor of the small freighter. “Luke started a temple in the deserts of Tatooine, wanted to start a new Jedi order. Took in a dozen or so students, started to teach them, the first class. More and more came as word spread, and their abilities were discovered. I brought Ben sometimes, gave him a break from Leia’s political stuff. She said he needed to be around kids his age, that sorta thing. He got close with them, started coming on his own after we split off to do our own jobs. Kids loved him, he loved them. Everything was pretty good, for a while.”

“And then two of the students turned to the Dark side,” Poe says, and Han looks to the pilot, finding the man’s eyes on him as though for confirmation. The pilot then looks to Finn, the ex-Stormtrooper frowning. “Twins. Ben was off somewhere else when they turned, killed all the other students. They were what, 14? 15?” 

“Sounds about right,” Han confirms, his voice gruff as he looks to Finn. “Ben was closest to the twins out of everyone. Leia and Luke decided that we couldn’t tell him what really happened. He’d go after them, he’d try to bring them back – damn kid has his mother’s hope in him. You want to put a smuggler up against two dark side users and the entire First Order? No one’s that good at using a blaster.”

“Wait, wait, back up,” Finn says, holding up a hand as he looks between pilot and smuggler, brow furrowed. “You’re talking about Commander Cor, and Commander Ana, aren’t you?”

Han looks to Poe, the pilot holding his gaze for a moment before the man looks back to Finn. “You know them?” Poe demands.

“I’ve only ever seen Commander Cor,” Finn explains, shifting against the doorway, his frown deepening. “On Jakku. Commander Ana’s rarely on the base.”

“Commanders of the First Order, kriffing hell,” Han groans, wiping his hand down his face in despair, closing his eyes as dread sweeps through him.

“Jaden took in a new title. I guess Ana didn’t,” he hears Poe say. 

Commanders of the First Order. Wherever Luke is, he has to be heartbroken, if he even knows. The two kids he found outside the temple, left on the last step. The kids he took in as his own, feeling the Force in them and thinking they would take his place as some of the best Jedi ever known. They had promise, even Han could see that, and it wasn’t long before Ben got attached, too, to the babes with blond hair and blue eyes who gurgled whenever Ben came to visit. 

They were so sweet, the boy – Jaden – reluctant to take up a training saber in fear that he would hit someone with it by accident. Ana was eager, though, a little spitfire of a girl who Han liked more than he would ever admit. He remembers watching her attack a training droid with all the energy of a kid who well and truly enjoys what they’re doing. The kicker was her saying ‘sorry’ to each fallen hunk of metal in her high little voice whenever Luke announced the drill finished, something his best friend and brother in law always found endlessly amusing.

 _Maker,_ what went wrong?

“If you’re not going to tell Ben, I will.”

“I don’t know if it’ll make a damn difference,” Han says, looking towards the pilot and fully aware of the hardened tone of his voice, the gruff nature of it. “I don’t know what mumbo jumbo Luke did to my kid, I don’t know what’ll happen if we tell him, all right?”

“If he’s going to be chased by them across the galaxy, then he deserves to know just who they are,” Poe insists, gesturing towards the stars. “This isn’t the first time they’ve gone after him, and you know that. Remember Nar Shadda?”

“It could’ve been anyone dressed all in black-“ Han tries to protest, but he knows the damn commander’s right. “Yeah, all right, fine. But we’re not telling Leia.”

“You don’t tell your wife a lot of things, do you?” Finn asks. 

Han raises his eyebrows and points at him. “Don’t follow my example, kid. Women always find out the truth eventually. Always.” He pushes himself from the chair, making his way around Finn and walking back towards the hold. “Start opening hatches, see if there’s ammo!” 

“Do you expect trouble, Solo?” Poe calls. 

“Always!”

-

It’s exactly as Ben remembered it. The smoke in the air, the jizz music playing from some band somewhere, the gambling criminals tucked into dark corners. His ears are bombarded with languages of all sorts, varying from grunts and growls and chitters to other humanoid languages, tongues moving in similar ways but the words and accents slightly different. 

Come to think of it, this cantina feels more like home than any of the apartments that his mother stayed in on the Republic planets. This cantina, and the Falcon – they’re where he spent his better years. 

And the temple, but that’s … that’s-

“Come on.” 

He mutters the words, the sentence just barely carrying over the noise surrounding them as he takes Rey’s hand to lead her to one of the back booths, the ones tucked into their own little alcoves.

“Dad used to come here looking for side jobs,” he explains, guiding her towards one of the booths he used to frequent back when he actually came here on a regular basis. 

Rey’s smile brightens a little at just the mention of Han as they slide in. He remembers very vividly sitting here when he was younger, kicking his short legs that didn’t quite reach the floor, pushed up against the side of his father. His father who would sneak him onto the Falcon while his mother was in meetings, and when she realized Ben was gone, she would call right away and insist upon Han bringing him back. The smuggler would then proclaim it was too late to turn back and the boy just had to come with him. _He’ll be fine,_ Han had insisted, always. Whether or not that was always the case depended on the job his father had taken.

He doesn’t tell Rey he used to sit in them when he was older, too, with a few kids on either side of him, taking their first sips of Corellian ale and making faces at the taste as he chuckled at their innocence.

Rey doesn’t say anything, but she squeezes his fingers, and that’s enough for now as they settle into the smaller, darker booth, her side pressed against his. It takes longer than he’d like to hail down a waiter, but eventually he manages to get a hold of one who doesn’t look quite as grumpy as the waiters usually are, and puts an order for two Corellian ales, and two waters. 

“In clean glasses,” he emphasizes, putting a few more precious coins on the tabletop. “I’ll pay extra.”

The waiter grunts something before sweeping the coins away, and Ben watches him go. 

There’s a warmth to this place that soothes the sharp pain in his chest. For all its grime and gangs and scum, there are good memories here. Hard memories, sure, but good ones. 

At least there’s no destruction, here. No evidence of what happened. He can almost pretend that he’s waiting for Chewie to drop off a few students, his typical drink order of a half an ale each about to be filled. 

Almost.

“Are you all right?”

He looks towards the scavenger, seeing her eyes wide and curious as she squeezes his hand again, clutching tightly. Grounding him, he thinks, looking down at their fingers before squeezing back. 

“I will be,” he promises, trying to ignore the way his skin sticks to the old wooden table. Well, it’s never been the cleanest place.

“We can find somewhere to eat, if we want. I don’t trust the food here,” he says, perhaps a bit too quickly.

“Ben,” Rey says.

“I think we have some on the Falcon, but it’s not much. We have those portions, but I doubt you’ll want to eat those. We’ll have to stop somewhere, maybe we can pick up some more food when we sell all that stuff you found.”

“Ben.”

“We’ll get you some good food when we get back to base, I promise, you deserve-“

He’s silenced by her lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, and he wonders if it was in his voice, or if she felt it through the Force - the quivering of his heart, the unsteadiness of his soul. He turns, meeting her for a proper kiss, his eyes slipping closed as his hand tightens on hers.

The softness of her mouth distracts him for a brief moment, and he kisses back before the slamming of the glasses on the table startles them. He pulls away like he was burned, and he can see that Rey was surprised, too, her eyes wide as she looks towards the glasses, the bit of ale and water spilled on the table from the force.

“Someone’s not getting a tip,” Ben mutters, looking to the back of the waiter as he walks away, and he hears Rey’s small snicker as he reaches for the ale. It’s not an impeccably clean glass, but at least it isn’t cloudy. He’ll take it, he guesses, and he watches as Rey takes the water, letting go of his hand to cradle the glass in both of hers. 

“We’ll call Mom as soon as we get back to the Falcon.” The ale isn’t that good – probably sitting for too long in some back room, or some other brew than he’s used to, a cheaper one. “Tell her that we didn’t find anything, that we’ll have to figure out another-“

“What’s he saying to her?”

He stops in the middle of his sentence, looking up and seeing that Rey’s gaze is focused elsewhere, somewhere in the cantina. He turns his head and looks, too, but he can’t find anything that relates to her question. “Who?” he asks, looking back at his second mate as she continues to stare at the bar with that determined gaze he’s seen when she’s in the co-pilot’s seat. 

“That … man,” Rey says, her brows knitting together in concentration. “Next to the blonde. I can’t make out what he’s saying.”

“Does it matter?” Ben asks with a frown, but he looks back to the bar. This time, he sees them. Any other patron would ignore them, the haze of smoke concealing the two and the jizz music drowning out the man’s words. But upon closer inspection, he can see the man’s hand, scarred and disfigured, reaching for the woman’s, her fingers wrapped around a glass of whiskey. She jerks her drink away, snarling something in some language Ben doesn’t recognize. 

The man is … questionable, to say the least, his face disfigured either at birth or in some horrible accident. It’s hard to tell whether he’s humanoid, or something else entirely. He says something Ben can’t make out, the syllables combining into something that isn’t Basic. But his tone of voice is one he’s heard all too often on Nar Shadda, and Ord Mantell. 

“I can’t make it out either, but I don’t like the way he’s saying it,” he mutters, seeing Rey glance to him out of the corner of his eye but keeping his eyes on the two at the bar. 

The blonde’s human, there’s no doubt about that. She must be a pilot, or a smuggler. She doesn’t look like a local. Her clothes are darker, lacking the creams and browns of the Tatooine moisture farmers, and her hair’s down – most of the women here wear it up to keep their necks cool; Ben knows he’s tied his up on this dustball. She’s not an arms dealer. With this war, she would be on Canto Bight instead of some run-down cantina on Tatooine. Frowning, Ben tries to see through the smoke to see her face better, but the haze and the fact that she’s backlit by the warm light of the bar puts the odds out of his favor. 

“His hand is on her thigh.”

There’s harsh, hard anger in Rey’s voice, but he doesn’t look away, watching as the blonde knocks his hand off like the man’s some annoying pest. He puts it back, firmer this time, and Ben watches as the blonde grabs his wrist, lifts his hand from her leg, and slams it on the bar. This gets a bit of attention, three or four patrons around the two turning to see what happened. She snarls something Ben doesn’t understand, but the man doesn’t like it. 

There’s a blaster barrel under her chin within seconds, her eyes narrowed and nostrils flared as her head is forcibly tipped back by the weapon, metal pressed against pale skin.

“Hey!” The shout comes from his lips before he can stop it, the smuggler already standing. He smacks his head on the low ceiling, hissing as his hand flies to his brow. He can hear Rey standing, too, and when he opens his eyes and looks to her, she has one hand on her blaster and is already halfway out of the booth.

His gaze shifts back to the blonde, and it feels like someone replaced his blood with coolant. She’s looking at him, the blaster barrel still shoved underneath her chin, the man holding the weapon barking something – short, sharp syllables that Ben can’t decipher. But the woman doesn’t respond, instead staring at the smuggler, blue eyes wide in something like shock. 

_I’m trying to teach you how to protect yourself, all right sweetheart? I’m not always going to be there. All right, now let’s try again._

He remembers saying it. Maker, he remembers saying it, but there’s no face, no name, nothing-

**Bang!**

Her hand latches itself around the man’s wrist, and Ben hears the crack of bone as she twists. He cries out, his left upper arm smoking from the bolt Rey shot at him just seconds ago. It’s not fatal, no, it’s barely a graze, but it’s going to need a significant amount of bacta. He watches as the blonde twists his other, slamming it down on the bar. The angle’s off, something’s either broken or dislocated, and the man’s pained scream silences the rest of the patrons for maybe two heartbeats. The woman holds the man down, and Ben can see her saying something, her voice too low for him to make out. He doesn’t hear what the man spits back, either, but he does see the woman grab the blaster from his hand before she puts a bolt through the man’s palm, the one that he’d forced onto her thigh. There’s another scream from him, but it doesn’t attract nearly as much attention as the first. Ben watches as the woman pulls back, taking the blaster with her, tucking it into a loop in her dark jacket before she’s tossing the bartender some coins and making for one of the exits.

“Wait!” he shouts, slipping from the booth and rushing after the blonde.

“Ben!”

Rey calling his name doesn’t stop him as he pushes through the other customers, a few saying some things he’d rather not repeat as he shoves his way to the exit. “Sorry,” he throws this way and that to anyone he shoves a bit roughly, but it’s not in the least bit genuine. He doesn’t hear Rey saying it, even though he can sense she’s behind him. 

The suns are setting, casting the sky a beautiful orange and covering the bone-white buildings in a golden hue. In the midst of brown and bone and gold, it’s easy to see the dark figure walk down some side street. 

“Wait!”

He knows those eyes, he knows those lips, Maker, he knows her-

_“Wait!”_

It’s a scream this time, something inside of him feeling like it just got blasted to pieces. Breathing in general is hard on Tatooine, with the dust and the sand. But paired with the cold night breeze coming in, his lungs ache in protest of him running after her. The darkness doesn’t help, the setting suns casting shadow right into the side street she turned down. 

Something like dread gathers in his stomach, hard and cold as durasteel, and his chest aches something awful. 

He _knows_ her…

“Ben!” 

There are hands on his back, guiding him around to look at her, Rey staring up at him with wide, warm brown eyes. “What is it?” she demands. 

Of course she doesn’t understand, of course she has no idea what’s going on, he just ran out on her without an explanation. “I know her,” he pants, his hands braced on his knees as he tries to catch his breath and make the ache in his chest subside somewhat. It doesn’t help, and he tastes the dry dust on his tongue, his chest spasming and making him cough. “I know her, I _swear,_ I don’t know her name, but I _know_ her…”

He wracks his brain for planets, for seedy little motels and dark cantinas, but comes up blank. No, he didn’t spend the night with her, that’s not it, that’s not it at all. 

It’s something else, something before that, something like … 

No. No, that’s impossible, they were all killed, weren’t they? The First Order don’t leave survivors, that much he knows. And the chances of one of the kids getting out, walking across the Tatooine deserts alone, trying to find some kind of life, trying to survive…

It’s … it’s possible, he guesses, as he stares down the dark alley she disappeared down. It’s possible, and it may damn well have happened.   
“I think she was a student, at the temple.”

“But I thought you said the First Order-“ Rey insists, frowning, her brow furrowing in confusion. 

“I thought so, too, everyone thought so,” he mutters, standing up straight as the coughs subside, the night getting cooler with the lowering suns. A breeze whips through, ruffling the curtains of the houses, his shirt and hair, and forcing a chill up his spine as he looks down at the scavenger, who looks just as confused as his heart feels. 

“I don’t know,” he confesses, and it comes out choked. Whether it’s because his chest and throat feel tight, or whether it’s the dust of this damned planet, he can’t tell. But he looks back down the alley, trying to see any bit of movement what-so-ever, only to see none. 

“… I don't know.”

-  
It’s like trying to remember a dream, he guesses. The ones that seem so vivid and clear when his head is against the pillow, and then as soon as he opens his eyes, they’re gone. He remembers snippets, but they’re far from the most important parts of the dream. A name would be best, even a face. But instead, he gets laughter, and little parts of phrases that he doesn’t remember saying but he must have said at some point – they’re in his voice. 

He can hear laughter from the small galley, and can immediately picture Rey’s smile, the way her nose crinkles and that one dimple she has. He wishes he could see it, but he’ll have plenty more opportunities. At least, he hopes he will. 

The hardest part is always typing in the personal code. He rarely calls his mother. His mother usually calls him to make sure he’s still alive. To be calling her is already a red alert, and so he’s not surprised when she accepts the com right way, asking, “Ben?”

“Not all of the kids were killed.”

There’s silence on the other end, and he waits, staring out into the hangar, the floodlights above on the top of the hangar walls yellowed from years and years of neglect. “… Mom?” he asks, eventually, after he gets tired of waiting.

“That’s not possible,” she insists, and he sighs. 

“I didn’t think so either, but we ran into one at the cantina. I can’t remember her name, but I know her, Mom, I know her.”

“Are you sure she’s not-“

“If you’re going to say one of the girls I refused to bring home, then no, she’s not one of them,” he interjects quickly, reaching up to run his hand through his hair. He does it too harshly, and can feel the painful tug of some of the strands, but he just grimaces and follows through with the motion. “No, Mom, I know she was a student.”

“Your Uncle Luke and I went through that entire temple, Ben. Everyone … no one survived.”

“I’m telling you, Mom, one did! She must’ve escaped out the training grounds or something, must’ve found a moisture farm to take her in, Mom, I’m telling you, I know this girl, and she was one of the students!”

There’s silence again on the other end, across the galaxy, and he can just envision his mother’s face. Her dark eyes, her tight lips, trying to figure out how to make sense out of something that doesn’t. 

He remembers the memorial, on Yavin 4. He remembers his mother insisting it be far away from the temple, because mourning is hard enough, it shouldn’t be done in a lifeless, bone-colored temple that would only serve to remind everyone of what happened there. It wasn’t a happy occasion, by any means, but he remembers the names read of those who passed. 

They're all gone, he remembers thinking, standing beside his father at the front, a mourning braid in his mother’s hair and mourning clothes draping all of them. All gone. 

All but one, it seems. 

“You don’t remember her?”

“Not really, she might’ve been one of the newer students,” Ben mutters, running his hand down his face with a sigh. “I didn’t go back for a few months, you remember, was working with Dad.”

“I remember.” Her voice is tight with something he can’t recognize, and he frowns at her tone. 

He opens his mouth again, wanting to say he’s going to spend some more time here, wanting to say that they didn’t find anything at the temple, wanting to say that he’s going to find her, wanting to-

“Ben?”

Rey’s voice comes from behind him, and he turns, looking over his shoulder to see her holding a plate of food from a smaller hole-in-the-wall cantina, reheated in the galley, obviously waiting for him. 

“Right,” he mutters, looking back to the comlink. “Mom, we didn’t find anything in the temple. Any word from Dad?”

“Not so far. There should’ve been.” There’s an edge to her voice he knows all too well, and he smirks a little. It’s not one of worry, no, but exasperation. Of course. 

“Let me guess, he disobeyed your orders and is off somewhere else?”

“It’s not that hard of a guess, Ben,” she teases. 

“Never was. Anything else you need us to do here?”

“No, just ... just come home. We’ll figure something out.”

“We always do,” Ben replies, smiling a little as he feels Rey’s hand on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing the muscle. He reaches up to take her hand, squeezing gently as the connection is cut. He can smell the cream of womprat soup, looking over his shoulders to see that Chewie’s behind her, holding a larger tray of bowls and plates, Tatooine flatbread cut into pieces and a bigger salad in a larger bowl. Chewie roars quietly, and Ben chuckles. 

“Yes, it was very nice of you to wait to eat, I’m sorry we kept you hungry,” he teases, standing and winking at Rey, who grins at him. He moves towards his uncle, spying the blue milk of his childhood on the tray and grabbing a glass of it, taking a swig. He can remember being completely mystified by the idea when he was younger, his uncle sitting on the edge of his bed and telling him bedtime stories of womprats and banthas and blue milk. 

He was too young to recognize the sadness in his uncle’s eyes when he talked about his own aunt and uncle, and by the time he did recognize it, he already knew the story.

He knows the story of how his father and his uncle rescued his mother. He knows the story of Luke becoming a Jedi, he knows the story of Vader, he knows the story of his father and his mother falling in love. 

He knows all the stories, his mother’s simple versions and his uncle’s slightly dramatic ones and his father’s blown-out-of-the-atmosphere tales of how he singlehandedly flew everyone to safety.

At least, he thinks he knows all the stories.

-

“I want to go back.”

“Go back where, to Jakku?” Ben asks, setting a pack of blaster bolts aside in favor of the water canteen behind them. “Takodana?”

“The temple.”

“The temple?” 

He straightens suddenly, looking towards Rey who’s standing in the doorway of the storage bay. She must’ve gone to the fresher; her hair’s down, and she’s stripped down to what he recognizes as a pair of his sleep pants, and the Resistance-issue tank top she’s been wearing. “Yeah, no, we’re not going back to the temple,” he mutters, setting the water canteen aside with a bit more force than necessary, reaching back into the locker again to see what other treasures he can maybe sell for a bit of coin.

“There was something there, I could feel it,” she insists, stepping into the small space with him. 

“Well, unless your feelings have sensors, kid, I don’t see how we’re going to find anything. You saw the state of his office. I’m willing to bet the archive is the same. We’d have better luck going through all the sectors of the galaxy and searching every planet that has some sort of Force signature than searching that temple.”

“And if there’s something there?” she demands, and he looks to his left, finding her right beside his shoulder, brow furrowed in the way that she does that he loves – only, this time, he wishes her frustration wasn’t directed at him. “And we missed it?”

“Dad has a plan. Two plans. His plan, and Mom’s plan, and he’s going to follow through with both. One of them will work,” he mutters, looking down at the pack of tape he found. “Probably.”

“Is that a chance you’re willing to take?”

“Hey, Dad’s plans usually work,” he insists, seeing her raise a brow out of the corner of his eye. He turns to look at her again, staring her down as the brow raises higher. “… usually.”

“Ben, I felt something when I was in that temple. I’ve seen that room before, the one we hid in, I’ve seen the archives-“ Rey insists, and he stops, frowning as he sets the pack down and watches her as her gaze slips downwards. “I know we didn’t go in there, but I saw it, and I saw a book, filled with writing-“

“Wait, a book book?” he demands, holding his hand up to stop her. “With parchment, written with a pen?” 

She nods, and his frown deepens, his hand coming up to brush against the scruff of his chin. A book, huh? “Even if it was there at some point, I doubt it's there now. We don’t even know what that book is.”

“But it’s important,” she insists as he turns to continue emptying the locker. “I need to go back. _We_ need to.”

“Rey-“

There’s a hand on his shoulder, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt, and he turns, looking down at her. _So pretty,_ he thinks, her eyes big and wide and – 

“… fine,” he sighs, the ache in his chest becoming more of a twinge now as he thinks of the scorch marks, of the darkness of the corridors. “But we’re bringing glowlamps this time.”

She doesn’t smile, no, that’s not what this is. Returning to the place of so much death and destruction to find a map to his missing uncle doesn’t warrant a smile. But he sees the corner of her lips quirk up, just the slightest, and then she’s pressing herself into his figure, warm and slight and soft.   
It’s instinct to wrap his arms around her, to pull her closer, his cheek resting on top of her head as she curls into him. 

“Did you remember her name?” she asks, and he sighs, his breath ruffling her sun-streaked hair. 

“Not yet,” he mutters, rubbing up and down her back, feeling the bumps of her spine through the tank top, telling himself he has to get her to eat more. “Not yet.”

-

They don’t make it back to the temple, because of course they wouldn’t. Of course luck wouldn’t be on his side, not this time. He hopes that, if it’s not with him, then it’s with his Dad, because of all of them Han needs it the most. 

Still, he wouldn’t mind a bit of their own. 

They leave before the suns rise, the entire port city still blue with darkness, the sky turning purple. There are a few lamps to light their way, yellowed like the ones in the hangar. Even the merchants and con artists aren’t up yet, the stalls closed with thick woven fabric. In the morning, the fabric will be rolled up, and the chaos that is Tatooine will start once again. 

Rey’s bundled up in one of his shirts underneath his jacket, the early morning chill lingering as they make their way through the shadowed streets.   
“When we get back, we’ll grab some food from somewhere, and then we’ll start back towards D’qar,” he mutters, his arm wrapped around Rey in an effort to provide her with some semblance of warmth. “And then we’ll see if we need to go help Dad.”

“Do you help him often?” she asks, sounding amused. 

“Let’s just say I’m familiar with his distress signal,” Ben says, and he hears her laugh as they turn down one of the side streets. It may be difficult to get a speeder at a decent price, considering the hour, but he knows of one place that’s always open for travelers. The owner isn’t the nicest guy, and it’s steep, but it’s what they’ve got.

“Left,” he directs, guiding Rey down a narrow alleyway to the left, seeing the dim light of the shop at the end of the next street. “It’s just down there, see, and then we’ll get a decent one, and then get the heater on, and-“

He’s interrupted by the sound of a lightsaber igniting, the hiss of the blade making the hair stand up on his arms, and his blood run cold.

A sideways glance to the woman tucked underneath his arm proves that her hands are empty, her lightsaber still hidden beneath the nerf leather of her jacket, and shifting his gaze upwards reveals Rey’s wide eyes, filled with just as much fear as he feels.

“Yeah, I figured it wasn’t you, but I thought it was worth a check,” he admits, seeing the red glow reflecting off of the bone-white of the buildings. In the blue light of morning, it makes it so much more sinister, and he hates the way his heart starts to race as he keeps his gaze steady on the shop ahead. They probably don’t have time to haggle and strike a deal, then. 

“You know,” he calls, seeing Rey reach for her own saber out of the corner of his eye. “If you needed a light, you could’ve just asked. I think I have a glowrod somewhere in one of these pockets.”

He turns, looking over his shoulder and cursing under his breath as he sees black and white and armed. Of course she’d have Stormtrooopers with her, he thinks. Of course they would be horribly outnumbered, because when are the odds ever in his favor? He counts one, two, three, four, five, six. Six Stormtroopers, and a Dark side user. 

Yeah, he doesn’t exactly like those odds. But he’ll take what he can get. After all, Dad made it out with worse before. 

He’s not his dad, though, and therein lies their issue.

“You know, this would go a lot more smoothly if you just agreed to come with me."

There’s almost humor in her voice, something with an almost friendly manner, and he frowns, his hand going to his blaster. Immediately, there are six blasters pointed towards him and Rey, and he stops. He can see Rey stop, too, her hand closer to her saber than his was to his blaster. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he calls, the red glow of the saber forcing him to squint in the low light. “As nice as I’m sure whatever ship you have is, I kind of like mine, and we were just heading back to it, so…”

Yeah, all right, taking a step back probably wasn’t his best decision. He hears the whine of a blaster and hears Rey cry out, his gaze snapping to the girl beside him as his hand grabs hers. He stares at the blaster bolt hovering mere inches from her face, her eyes wide and terrified, the blue of the bolt reflecting in them.

_Kriffing hell…_

To see it in the temple was terrifying enough, but to see it when it’s so close to Rey? To think what might have happened if the Darksider hadn’t … stopped it?

Why would she stop it?

_“Run!”_

Rey doesn’t need to be told twice. He grabs her hand and pulls her away, her head bowed just enough that when the blaster bolt is let go, it flies down the street and hits the wall of some poor shop or home, he’s not sure which. There are shouts from the owner they were supposed to be haggling with for a speeder, but he’s too busy yanking Rey down a side street, the shadows concealing where exactly they’re going. 

He can hear more blaster bolts behind them, can hear someone yelling – can hear the Darksider yelling, but the exact words are obscured by distance and by the mask. 

“We may need to split up,” he pants, his hand still clutching Rey’s with a vice-like grip, unwilling to let go. “All the streets end up at the port eventually, get the engine running, prep the lightspeed, keep the ramp down, is that understood?!”

If he was with Poe, the pilot would say he sounds like his mother, but instead he gets a shouted, “Yes!” from the girl beside him, and that’s all he needed. 

“Left!” 

She follows him, and he can see the flash of metal out of the corner of his eye. A glance to his left tells him she has her lightsaber in hand, ready for a fight, should it come to that. 

Maker, he hopes it doesn’t. 

Left turns out to be a horrible idea, because halfway down the street, he sees a sliver of bright white and dark black, two of the Stormtroopers stepping out from another side street. Dust plumes up as he slides to a stop, his eyes widening as the blasters are raised and aimed. 

“Split!” 

It’s not one of his best plans, he’ll give it that much. But it means Rey’s out of the way when he hears the blaster shot, and he turns on his heel, seeing her dart down another street, nimble and quick. One Stormtrooper follows her, and he can see a bright white behind him, his hand going to his blaster so he can at least attempt to shoot backwards. 

Attempt being the key word. 

It takes a good ten seconds for him to wonder why he isn’t being shot at, why aside from that one blaster shot, there hasn’t been an attempt to shoot them down. 

It takes only a few to realize the answer.

_I’m not going to hurt you, Ben._

He can only hope whatever fucked up promise the Darksider gave him applies to Rey, too. 

The street he turned down dumps him out on one of the main streets, the ones with the market stalls and businesses lining the wider strip of dust and sand. If it were later in the day, it would work to his advantage in losing the Stormtroopers – with the crowds, he could blend right in, and lose them, and find Rey. 

In the dim blue light of early morning, it’s significantly harder. There are a few people out, sure, those starting their days early and setting up their shops to beat the morning rush, but he sticks out like a sore thumb thanks to his dark jacket. 

He makes a sharp right and tears down another street, his arms pumping at his sides. It’s hard to hold onto a blaster when his palms are sweating, but he doesn’t dare let it go or return it to the holster at his hip, not when there’s the chance the Stormtroopers won’t heed the Darksider’s orders.

He listens for footsteps, for the clanking of Stormtrooper armor, for the sounds of being pursued, but there are none, and after another few heartbeats he stops, panting as he turns to look over his shoulder. 

The street behind him is completely empty, and he frowns, glancing around the darkened alleyways that surround him. He couldn’t have lost them, he wasn’t that good, or that fast? They had to have been following him at some point, at least one of them…

He looks around, trying to look down shadowed streets and alleys, but he doesn’t even hear footsteps. It’s completely and utterly silent, and that’s the worst of-

_“Ben!”_

Rey’s shriek comes from some street to his right, and his head snaps around as he looks down the dark alley. _“Rey!”_ It’s a scream as he rushes down it, coming out on some main street, a few vendors staring at him with blurry, sleepy eyes filled with confusion. “I know you’re not open yet, sorry, looking for a friend,” he interjects quickly before he calls, “Rey!” again, hoping for some sort of answer. 

He doesn’t get any, his voice echoing off of the clay walls. 

It sounded like it was coming from his right, so he keeps going straight knowing that this is the way to the port. Maybe she was shouting because she escaped? She wouldn’t shout if they were after her, that would reveal her location, she’s too smart for that. He keeps rushing down streets until he hits the port itself, breathless as he stares down the long corridors leading to the hangars. 

She couldn’t have been this far away for him to hear her, right? Then where did she-

It’s not unusual to hear ships lifting off from their hangars. In Tatooine, it’s probably the most normal thing around here, that and being put off by womp rat stew. But he turns, looking up towards the sky as he sees a sleek, black ship hovering above its hangar. The sky is still a deep purple, the silhouette of the ship difficult to see in the darkness, but that’s no smuggling ship. It’s no clumsy freighter, or a traveling shuttle, he knows that damn well. It’s a First Order ship.

He doesn’t need the Force to figure out Rey’s on it. He only has to rely on the sinking of his heart, the intensity and pain of it only rivaling the com he got six years ago. 

They wouldn't leave before getting something that they wanted. And that's what they got.

“Rey!”

He’s already thinking about running to the Falcon, getting into the gunner’s, and shooting their ass up with Chewie at the pilots, but before he can even open the door to the port, the ship goes to lightspeed. He sees the light streak across the sky, garishly bright against the darkness, before it fades away and he feels like he’s about to be sick.

“No,” he breathes, slamming his hand on the panel to open the port door. He doesn’t register running, he doesn’t register the straining in his chest, doesn’t register how he managed to find his way through the maze of hallways and corridors that is the Mos Eisley port. He just knows that the Falcon needs to be started up, they need to go, they need to figure out where the First Order’s based, they need to…

_“CHEWIE!”_

He bangs on the entry ramp, slamming his fist against the switch as he hears his uncle’s confused roar, no doubt the Wookie trying to catch a few more hours of sleep before leaving the dustball of a planet. 

“We need to leave, Rey’s been captured by the First Order.” 

It comes out more like an order than he expected, and he thinks he may have just sounded like his mother as he stomps through the walkway, boots clanging on the durasteel smuggling panels. His uncle roars in confusion behind him as he rushes to the cockpit, already putting in his mother’s access code before reaching up to turn the engine on and prep the hyperdrive. 

“Rey’s been captured by the First Order,” he growls, the General not even getting a word in before he's speaking. “Whatever the fuck you’ve been hiding from me about these Dark side users, you are going to tell me when I get back to D’Qar. I need whoever’s willing to go on a rescue mission, and I need them to be ready when I land.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to see what the twins look like? Here! https://stoptakingmyhandx.tumblr.com/post/170330624441/cor-never-tell-me-the-odds-update-tonight   
> Special playlists for both of them will be up by the end of the week, as well as a few more edits.


End file.
